


Shinigmai Dispatch Society Chronicles Feb 3, 1889 Red Valentine William

by Truedarkhunter



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M, Multi, Other, Romance, Valentines' Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truedarkhunter/pseuds/Truedarkhunter
Summary: This piece is based off of the Red Valentine Seiyu Event held in Japan live with the voice actors playing the parts.  In it, William is forced to hunt down his ginger-haired coworker while still in the middle of investigating the Noah's Ark Circus.  While trying to drag his coworker back, she sustains an injury and he fears she is dead.  Who can possibly help?  Undertaker.  However, it seems that his shop is the meeting site for almost everyone imaginable that day.  William can feel a headache coming on.  How will they manage to keep his coworker out of sight long enough to get her sorted out?
Relationships: Grelle/Agni, Grelle/Ash, Grelle/Baldroy, Grelle/Finny, Grelle/Sebastian, Grelle/Soma, Grelle/Valentine Fairy, Grelle/Viscount Druitt, Lau/Grelle Sutcliff, William/Grelle
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. William Leaves the Circus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grelle Sutcliff](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Grelle+Sutcliff).
  * Inspired by [Kuroshitsuji Red Valentine Event English Subs Part 1&2](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/582391) by Reina Rei (and Onakugirl). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William gets a message recalling him temporarily from the field to find and collect Grell who has escaped her punishment to run around causing trouble in the human realm. As if he doesn't already have enough to do! Having to forgo breakfast and lunch AND dinner, doesn't make for a pleasant William to deal with when at last he catches up to Grell. 
> 
> In fact...Grell might be dead because of him.

SDSC Feb 3 1889 Red Valentine William Ch 1

The rating on Shinigami Dispatch Society Chronicles is MA. The Red Valentine segment is T-13+ to M (for concepts). Please be advised.

Author’s Note: I know it’s taken a long time for me to get to this. I have been working on this “chapter” for Valentine’s Day for two years now. As you can probably judge by the title, it is based off the Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji Red Valentine Seiyu Special that was a live action event held with the voice actors performing a special holiday piece. I even tried to get it done for White Day (March 14th) this year. Neither of those happened. This ‘chapter”, when it was finished, came out to be 60 pages! I’m going to break it up so it’s about 10 pages per sub-chapter. 

I still don’t have the best start to this time-travelling fan-fiction, but I do have things written. Given what’s going on in the world, it’s time to share it. May it give you something to pleasantly spend a few of your hours on. I’ll keep working on the rest of it. 

You’ll have to read it by the dates. It’s the only way I’ll get the tale out, but I hope that it does please you. Feedback is welcome. My betas have been busy, so it may not be as polished as I’d like, but I did try to do at least 1 clean up pass. 

My friend, StarlitScythe, is writing Undertaker’s tale. So if you want REAL insight into what he thinks and feels, you will want to read her version. We are writing this entire story from different characters’ POV (Point-of-View). If we are able, we will try to get up Ronald Knox’s version as well as our third author dropped out. For now, please enjoy the story. There are liner notes at the end that will give insight into the research we’ve done and possibly help you with your own.

SDSC Sunday February 3, 1889 Red Valentine-William

The sky was clear and the shade of pale blue you only got on a winter’s day. Were the air equally clear, William would have been pleased. Instead, it stank of unwashed human bodies and the acrid smell of reptile skin. How the snake handler kept them from sliding into torpor, William hardly knew. Snakes had never been high on his list of animals he liked. That some of the ones at the Noah’s Ark Circus were venomous didn’t improve his opinion of them.

Freckles ran past shouting at another cast member for stealing her breakfast. William pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses and sighed. He could no more turn off his ears than he could his nose. How anyone could be upset over the slop that is served here is beyond me, he thought. Usually he went over early and got a few items and just cooked them himself. Given how people were sitting around stuffing themselves, that option was no longer available. 

Unfortunately, setting up the tents in a new location yesterday disrupted his sleep and made him awaken later than usual. There would be no slow-roasting of vegetables under the coals of the fire this morning. What with waking up late, he had little appetite yet anyway. He could wait for tea break later on to break his fast. Lifting his eyes, he wished he were back in his apartment in Purgatory. At least there I could properly shower all the stench of the human world off, and have tea. Lovely, glorious, hot tea, the kind that ran empires. With that at hand I could feel right with the world again, he thought, continuing his inner monologue. How can anyone survive without tea? he wondered. Here they served that coffee sludge such as Mr. Knox endorsed. Pretty much anything brown in color worked for these folks here, he suspected. Mud might be offered some morning. He wouldn’t put it past them.

While his fellow cast members discussed the division of the remnants of their meal, his ears picked up a different sound-the whirring of wings. The distinct whistle was not that of some ordinary rock pigeon or common dove, but rather that of Dispatch’s preferred psychopomp, the passenger pigeon. That it wasn’t a native to the British Isles helped make it easier to identify. Since the entire species was slated to die at the hands of humans, the Higher Ups deemed it appropriate to keep some as messengers in Purgatory.

These creatures, being mostly spirit, were smarter and more self-aware than some of their counterparts. Weren’t they created using the same method as we were? William wondered. I wish it would have made some of my coworkers smarter as well. Then maybe they could be competent enough that I wouldn’t be stuck doing field work. Again. It could also be efforts by the breeding program, his brain countered, but he really didn’t know. Those who handled the lofts weren’t part of his domain. They fell under the mail-carrier’s sphere, so he interacted with them very rarely for work purposes. 

That didn’t stop him from occasionally visiting the lofts on the roof of London Dispatch after an extremely long day. The sound of the birds cooing and fluttering was soothing as he sat on the bench of the rooftop garden closest to where they were kept. Thus the sound was familiar to him. “What could Upper Management want of me now?” he muttered to himself, “Am I not busy enough?” Hopefully Alan was handling things all right in his absence. A frown came to his lips. Could something have happened to Alan? What else could it possibly be? Anxious, he carefully took out his Deathscythe, an object that those here thought of as merely a very expensive and personalized set of extendable pruning shears.

“How much do they cost?” Dagger had asked him, eyes round and shining.

“More than your life is worth,” William replied in his coldest tones. No one questioned him about it again. That he used them in his high wire act further cemented that the item was his and not to be touched. No one messed with a performer’s tools here.

The bird circled as William turned the gripping end upward and worked the mechanism to lengthen the haft. His thoughts came back to Alan and his own worries. While William trusted the young Reaper quite well, the man was just that-young, at least by Reaper terms. William hadn’t had enough time to fully prepare Alan for the duties required of a manager, but he hoped to continue the training soon. A move to management would likely stave off the Thorns of Death that were slowly getting worse with every excursion Alan made into the field. Hence why William took on the duty of investigating this Circus himself. With Grell away serving out his punishment for having an unapproved Death Scythe, someone had to handle the Circus issue and he wanted Erik to keep an eye on his younger partner so he didn’t try to go out reaping anyway. William cared about all those under his jurisdiction. He wanted to see them get Promoted not Demoted. This was their last chance to affect their fates. Promotion meant they could finally go to Heaven. Even so, he didn’t wish Alan to Promote in such an awful and painful way. 

Rotating his scythe, he adjusted the length so that the tip was just a handbreadth higher than the walls of the tent. The pigeon circled around and after a moment of uncertain fluttering, landed cleanly on the blunt tip. William tried to watch the reactions of those around him peripherally, but his near-sightedness mostly allowed him to pick up movement at the edges. He tried not to let even his staff know how bad his vision was without his glasses. “Take care of your spectacles,” was the mantra he told new trainees regularly, and with reason. Most of the troupe would probably not even see the animal at all as only those close to death or attuned to spirits would really notice.

Lowering his scythe with care, he just reached up to wrap his hand around the bird when he heard Freckles behind him. “You know, there are good eating on those things.” Her voice held its usual mischievous, cheerful tone. 

“It’s not a turtle,” he said, knowing the reference would be lost on her. The author of the book he read hadn’t been born yet. It was one of the benefits of being on the Other Side. 

“What does that mean? I can see that it’s not a turtle. Turtles don’t fly,” Freckles replied, her eyes narrowing as she planted her feet and crossed her arms. William needed to get rid of her or to get away from her. How to go about it? His unnaturally green eyes met her determined blue one. All of the other headliners of this circus sported a terrible loss or some deformity that cast them outside the circle of normal society. What would they think of him when he had lost his very life? While he could sympathize with such pain as they had suffered, this was his job. 

He put the emotion away.

These people were his targets. The rules didn’t prohibit contact with them in advance though…so what about the truth? Upper Management hadn’t come down on him for doing so when he was on his final exam, so he saw no reason to change his methods now. Who were they going to tell? 

Holding her gaze with a silent glare, he retracted his scythe and put it away with his free hand. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his glasses with his empty hand and leaned down towards the young girl. “This,” he said hoisting the slightly confused pigeon, “is a messenger bird. They take years to train. You don’t eat them.”

“Are you having a laugh on me?” Freckles asked. The girl looked very androgynous when not done up in her stage persona as Doll. 

Giving a snort of disdain, he replied, “I assure you, I do not joke.” To emphasize his point, he removed his glove with his teeth, and placed it back in his hand in a smooth motion. Holding the glove pressed against his palm with his last two fingers, he took out the message on the bird’s foot with a practiced motion.

“Core! You weren’t jokin’! I’ve never seen a real one before!” she cried as she craned her head sideways to get a better look at the bird. The pigeon, for its part, bobbed its head about looking back at her from the ungainly position on its back. The dull blue-grey head and rusty orange breast shone in the winter sunlight. 

“As I said, I never joke.” So saying, he adjusted his hold on the bird and then flung it upward, giving it enough momentum that it could spread its wings and take over powering its own flight. 

“Aww! I wasn’t done lookin’ at it!” Freckles cried in disappointment. Heedless of her desires, William focused on the foreboding scrap of paper before him. Unrolling the message, he blinked in surprise at the contents, nearly rocking back on his feet. 

Attn: Grell Sutcliff on probation raiding chocolate shops human world. Stop it.

Really? Not only was he stuck being in the field because of Grell’s incompetence, NOW he had to clean up after that daft Reaper’s antics as well? This was intolerable. William’s hand went back to pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on, the familiar one that always came with dealing with Grell.

“So what’s it say?” Freckles was prompting him. Oh yes, her. He had to deal with these people first. Thank goodness it was a Sunday. 

“My former employers have had an unexpected problem arise and are asking me to deal with it,” William told her.

“What d’ya mean “deal with it”? I thought you left those blokes when you left your job-whatever it was,” Freckles said eying him skeptically, the mop of her brown hair covering her damaged left eye. So young to be dying, he thought. At least she was vibrant in her living. Would that be a comfort in the Afterlife she was garnering with her actions? It was a question he was denied knowing the answer to himself.

“My job was being the manager of the local Shinigami Dispatch branch. Unfortunately, one of my underlings is apparently giving my replacement difficulties. They need me to put him in line,” he told her.

“What about the Circus? What about your act?” her distress was not feigned. The Noah’s Ark Circus was life for these people. Unfortunately, they were death for many others, and soon it would come to call for them. He’d already had to clean up after them, unseen by human eyes, as he reaped the souls of their victims. Well, at least he handled the ones near him. He had to leave the ones that were carried off by the troupe to Carina and Eric. He cursed Grell again silently and wondered about the “extra help” Upper Management sent over to aid with their shortage of Reapers.

A brief shake of his head brought him back to the present. “I’ll be back by this evening, tomorrow at the latest. You have to drum up customers anyway. So you’ll go advertise while I handle my issues and return.”

He turned on his heel and started walking away from her through the fairway of tents. “Wait, what do I tell the others?” she called after him. 

“Say that I had to go to church,” he said. The rules of Dispatch were his dogma now and given the head of their Order, it was close enough.

Reaching the city proper, William considered where to begin. People passed him on the street barely registering his presence. Some glanced at him, more for his lack of a top hat than any real recognition of him as a person. His lack of a heavy outer coat in the still chill weather registered less with those parting around him than his faux pas of not wearing a proper hat. Any hat for that matter. That was Londoners for you.

“Papers! Read all about it! Chocolate Massacre Continues! Get your papers here!” called a shrill voiced young lad. It took William a moment to spot the short boy in the press of people near the crossroads. His brown coat and pants left more than an inch of skin bared to the open wind. A growth spurt must have hit the child just after the holidays and made his formerly adequate clothing too short for his new, longer frame. William sympathized. He could recall the days when he was a boy and shooting up tall in sudden bursts that seemed to happen overnight. His mother had a hard time letting out the hem of his pants and jacket to try and get them to last out the season until his father returned from his tour with the navy and they could afford to get him new clothes. 

The ragged and patched cap on the tangle of unevenly cut brown hair suggested the boy had to trade to even get the basics for the job he held. While Reapers were not allowed to directly change the fates of the living, no harm would be caused by William buying a single paper from the child. His own industry and the charity of those in the area would decide the boy’s outcome. That he had such a growth spurt spoke in favor of the boy’s survival. In the meantime, William would be able to find out where Grell had already struck in order to extrapolate the next likely target. While Scotland Yard might be baffled, William had been around Grell long enough to be able to predict his moves, even when his coworker thought he was being subtle.

Well, except for that whole business with Madame Red. Had William not been tied up teaching mandatory classes, classes which Grell was also supposed to be teaching and steadily ignored, not even that would have escaped his gaze. The entire business still left a bitter taste in his mouth, almost as bitter as chocolate.

Chocolate. Finding an alley that sported less filth than most, partially due to the lack of windows through most of it, William edged himself out of the press of bodies and opened the newspaper. The chocolate thefts weren’t front page news. That honor went to the new city of Birmingham that had gained the status of becoming a city without having a cathedral built first. How times change, he thought. However, it was in bold type on the second page. Chocolate Massacre Continues: Who is this bold thief? the headline read. 

A quick scan gave William all the information he needed. Time to catch the thief in the act.

After scouting out the most likely remaining shops, William believed the flashiest one with no less than four shop windows split up by two doorways would be Grell’s next target. His coworker couldn’t resist flamboyance. Having appeared to have gotten away with the crimes thus far would drive the normally bold Reaper to new heights of arrogance. William banked on it.

Taking up a spot across the way, it wasn’t long after the workers went home that a dim light, like that of a storm lantern set up facing away from the street, appeared. It could be a guardsman or a lone accountant, much like he himself had been, but William doubted it. Even so, he had to be sure before he took action. The widows on either side of the large plate glass ones with their fancy script were done with smaller panes and thicker, less even glass. They would better hide his presence than the larger, clearer ones. He made the one closest to the corner his haunt. The one he chose seemed to have a slight crack on the right side of the miniature pane that made up the larger window. It would allow him to hear what was going on inside. There was some amount of shuffling and the sound of fabric brushing against itself along with some pan banging before a familiar voice reached his ears.

“This time, I think I’ve got it. How was I to know that you didn’t make these types of chocolates with water? I’ve only made the drink version at my apartment. The second time I burned them. What a mess that was! Third time must be the charm, t-h-o-u-g-h. Ahh~ how could I miss with the recipes of this shop on hand? I’ve had to sneak out during my resting hours to make them, but it’s going to be com-plete-ly worth it! Only about two more weeks to sleep and it’ll be Va-lenti-ne’s death! Ever since the love we shared that night, it’s only been misunderstandings when I’ve crossed his path. But with this chocolate, there’s nothing to worry about. From a merely physical relationship, we’ll take it one step further. Mmm! And it’s all because it’s almost Valen-tine’s! The day when the women can push the men down…all the way down to the floor.” Grell’s voice echoed out to the spot where William stood with his back to the window, making him merely a shadow among shadows. Who was he going on about now? William desperately hoped Grell wasn’t doing all of this for him! He wasn’t sure how Upper Management would view the matter if Grell tried to drag his name into it.

Concerned, he continued to listen. Hopefully the question would be solved soon. The uneven ground let him feel every rock and pebble through the soles of his regulation leather shoes. 

“Hmmmm-n. Okay, almost finished! Only a few more and they’ll be done. Just you wait, Sebas-chan. I’ll take you to a romantic wor-ld like you’ve never experienced before!” Grell cried out loudly before beginning to hum. Okay, that was enough. It wasn’t even HIM Grell was going on about this time, but that bloody demon. He couldn’t decide which was worse. That there was a demon wandering about the English countryside grated on his nerves. That Grell often had romantic thoughts towards him, left him feeling out of his depth for other reasons. Even so, the demon won out as it affected William’s job, and therefore his chance of redemption much more personally. For him, the young Lord Phantomhive was a ledger imbalance waiting to happen. 

No matter. His job was to put a halt to Grell’s plans which he was more than happy to do. No good could come of Grell getting mixed up with a demon. It was like pouring petrol on a fire to put it out. Keeping the two separated would insure his coworker had at least an even chance of saving his own soul.

Using his scythe, William quickly cut the window pane free from its moorings and shoved it hard. The glass flew inward, flipping as it went. William did not wait for it to hit. Shooting his scythe out, he anchored the gripping end against the floor briefly and sprang into the room. The ceiling didn’t allow for him to vault all the way across it, so he pressed the lever on his Deathscythe and used the resulting extension to run along the wall above the countertops just as the glass hit the floor. He didn’t often use such abilities, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have them. 

Grell had relied upon natural ability for their class in practical skills. William had paid attention and actually learned the techniques. It was often the thing that gave him an edge in a fight with Grell.

Landing smoothly in a crouch, William raised the hand he had out for balance to make sure his glasses were secure as he rose to his feet. He was soon upon the red-haired Reaper who was still reacting to the sound of the breaking glass. After emitting a series of complicated noises of surprise, Grell sweetly called, “Mm, who is it?” Apparently, the perpetrator thought he could escape by playing innocent. 

William stepped from the shadows.

“What are you doing there, Dispatch Officer Grell Sutcliff?” he demanded sternly, anger lacing the words as he leveled his Deathscythe at the truant.

A look of bewildered startlement crossed Grell’s face. Wait, was that a hint of embarrassment? Was he actually blushing? William allowed his Shinigami eyes to brighten to counteract the dimness in the room. Yes, it was a blush. A look of guilt crossed Grell’s features and he broke off eye contact while pushing his index fingertips together in a very feminine gesture. 

“Uhh, I-I was just making chocolates…” Grell said trailing off. The evidence of the crime all over his regulation black gloves. The countertop was a mess. How much chocolate could you possibly need to make as small a batch as this? William wondered. 

Shaking his head William said, “And you attacked sweet shops for just that reason? Really. Grim Reapers becoming directly involved in the affairs of the human world is against regulations. You’re well-prepared for the consequences, I suppose?” He could feel his eyes burning with anger now. The phosphorescence created phantom will-of-the-wisps at the edges of his vision. Surely Grell could see them now, as well.

Grell’s eyes came back up to him and his eyes widened. Throwing his hands up before him as if to ward off the daggers of William’s gaze, Grell cried out, “Ah! Wait, Will!” and for once, William found himself actually pausing. What answer could Grell possibly give for his crimes?

The other Reaper dropped his hands and looked away. In a lower, softer tone he added, “Will…” He started and then stopped himself. Whatever Grell started to say was replaced with “…it’s because you’re always playing hard to get, anyway.”

So it was about him after all. Tired and hungry as he already was, he didn’t want to hear another word. His reputation at Dispatch was already in jeopardy with this flakey Reaper constantly mucking up. He couldn’t afford to have Grell telling the Higher Up’s how all of this was actually all because of him. This needed to stop. To spare them both a potentially worse punishment than was already being delivered, he lashed out with his scythe.

“AH! Stop that already...!” Grell began, but got no further as William’s scythe struck close to his temple and he dropped to the floor. At first, William thought Grell was just playing with him, trying to avoid further punishment. When a toe prod failed to get a response, he started to worry. 

“Dispatch Officer Grell Sutcliff, I order you to get up!” He gave Grell a good kick to the stomach, but the other Reaper gave no response. The breath whooshed out of him and a new one was never drawn. 

Now William began to sweat.

That Grell wasn’t breathing wasn’t in itself a death sentence. Reapers had the ability to stop breathing and still function just fine. They had to go down into lightless mines and underwater for their retrievals, so such gifts existed for their sakes. However, a dead Reaper looked the same as a knocked-out one that wasn’t breathing. 

Surely he hadn’t struck Grell hard enough to cause a Promotion?

Looking around in a panic, William felt the weight of guilt crash down on him. If he had killed Grell when all this sat upon the man’s soul...oh dear. While William had no great love for Grell, he did have a deep and honest care for him and wanted him to escape the fate dealt to them all. 

Although they had never addressed it directly, William had heard the rumors back in school about Grell. How he got thrown out of his ethics class for attacking another Shinigami who suicided to follow Grell into the Afterlife. Grell had flown at the other fellow in a rage, screaming about how he had ruined Grell’s one chance to be made immortal in the memory of his fans. That’s how he ended up getting transferred into William’s class, and how they wound up getting paired together for their final exam. 

Ever since William beat the hot-headed Reaper during their exam over a hundred years ago, Grell had come to hero-worship him. Why, William could never understand fully. Yet, for all his posturing, Grell seemed to be searching for someone to watch over and protect him. That was something William accepted and tried to do. He aimed to get them all out of Purgatory via Promotion. Then he didn’t care what they did with their Afterlives-as long as he didn’t have to deal with them anymore. He knew who he longed to meet up with again. Hopefully they would all find happiness in that Upper Realm of the heavens.

Unless he needlessly and thoughtlessly struck his compatriot down here. Some dark chill of foreboding crawled jaggedly up his back and lodged in his shoulders. No, Grell couldn’t be dead. His cinematic record would play, wouldn’t it?

Normally, the man would just get up, no matter how severe the blow. It was part of their natures. Far more extreme things than this failed to take out the sturdy bodies of Grim Reapers, and yet-it was a Deathscythe that delivered the blow. Could it have made the difference?

For a moment, William was tempted to try and call forth Grell’s cinematic record. That quickly got quelled. William neither wanted to see what Grell’s private thoughts and life contained, nor to risk having the second blow finish the job if Grell were on the brink of actually dying. Still, he had to do something about the problem!

Wracking his brain, only one answer came to mind. Undertaker. He had been their teacher for their Ethics class and knew more about dying, death, and surviving death than anyone else William knew. First, he had to clean things up here. 

Gathering the chocolates together in a box lined with wax paper, he tucked the evidence into the left breast pocket of his jacket. While he couldn’t restore what had been used, he speedily tidied up the space and restored the kitchen to rights to the best of his ability. 

Finished at last, he turned to address the bigger problem in the room.

Leaning down, he put a shoulder under Grell’s arm and hoisted the unconscious Reaper to his feet. “Ugh. You’re going to owe ME an apology letter for this, Grell. Not just the Higher Ups. As if I don’t have enough to deal with already. You’d better not die on me. Do you understand, Sutcliff?” 

With that he teleported to the spire closest to Undertaker’s shop.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Liner notes: A special thank you to Onakugirl who allowed us to know this event existed and provided a basic translation and notes about the various segments.

We worked to figure out exactly when this would occur in the timeline. Grell/Grelle says “only about 10 more sleeps until Valentine’s Day”. She’s giving an approximation there. We know that the main events in Circus happen on February 8-9, 1889. Grelle just gets out of punishment at that time. This gave us fits because she is still in punishment if she goes out during this period. Finally, we realized that was EXACTLY what she did. Seeing the live-action theater play “His Butler, Friendship” cemented for us that Grelle obeys her punishment when she feels like it or when someone is watching her. Otherwise, Grelle does what she wants!

William had to take over for Grell/Grelle in the field and the observation period, at least for the final exam, is 1 month ahead of the people dying. This is seen in The Story of Will the Reaper in the OVA’s of the second season of the anime. Thus, we decided that cautious William likely left out from Dispatch by January 8-9, 1889. This is important given what happens with Eric and Alan during “The Most Beautiful Death in the World” the live-action stage play. The pair appeared in a panel when the German Reapers were talking in the manga, so we may assume that to be cannon. The Red Valentine mentions that “It’s Sunday”. So the Sunday closest to “10 days before Valentine’s” turned out to be February 4, 1889. That’s how we triangulated the placement of this piece into the timeline.

Although they are not in the Red Valentine piece, we will get to see Eric and Alan in later chapters of the Shinigami Dispatch Society Chronicles (SDSC).

Anyway, I believe we learn that Grelle had a month-long punishment in Circus. Since Will covered for her in the field, he had to take that entire month off to do so. Back at Dispatch, we believe that Alan has been left in charge and Eric is using the time with William AND Grelle out of the way to collect souls to save Alan. The ledgers start to show discrepancies, but it’s assumed that it’s because he’s new to the job. Everyone offers to help and gives encouragement, especially his mentor Eric who’s causing the imbalance. That means there’s not enough people to really keep an eye on Grelle. Thus she is free to gallivant off and create merry havoc where she will.

We will be using both forms of Grelle’s name as this particular piece will be a turning point and explain some of the history of the character. Please bear with us. We will give you insights into Grelle’s history based off the clothing she’s worn in the anime and things she has said that tie into the history of the times. 

Birds are often psychopomps, guides for the dead. Passenger pigeons were once numerous enough to blot out the noonday sun when they flew. Huge masses of birds could be seen as psychopomps, especially if they landed and waited outside the homes of the dying. I’ve always had a fondness for these birds that were driven extinct by us and thought they could enjoy a new life with the Grim Reapers.

The turtle-This is a reference to Terry Pratchett’s “Small Gods”. While I doubt William would have chosen it of his own accord, he would definitely understand the author’s dry humor and find some wisdom in the cautionary tale about godhood.

The chocolate shop mentioned was drawn from an actual chocolate shop that existed at the time. You’ll figure out which one later. We learned a lot about chocolate, how popular it was, and even tried a variety that was said to be based on a Victorian Era recipe for hot chocolate. It’s always best to go off of a photograph or a map where you can. 

One of the foods we know they ate during Circus was potatoes. Traditionally, they could be wrapped in foil and cooked over or in a fire, but lacking even that, they can be shoved whole into the hot coals to bake . That is the method William uses in this story. It’s a popular trick when camping in the woods.

(If you can experience some authentic food of the periods you are writing, then it's great to do so. Take time to look up what foods were actually like in the time periods you want to write. One of the glaring examples out there is “gruel”. That wasn’t always some sort of lumpy cereal grain. If you are writing about an area that is having a shortage of flour, they probably aren’t eating cereal grains in other formats, either. Postulate the future based on what trends there are and knowledge we have now.)

I hope you enjoy our tale. Do give feedback and ask questions about the characters. We may be able to give you answers from their POV if you like. ;) (Just use the character’s name in the question as if you were asking them, and we’ll try to address to it through their eyes.) 

May this day and every day see you well!


	2. The Chocolate Massacre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William gets caught red-handed with the chocolates that his coworker made. Ciel and Sebastian aren't likely to allow this to pass by ignored since Queen Victoria ordered them to put a stop to "The Chocolate Massacre". Undertaker might not be able to help William keep his coworker from getting taken, but the young lord and his butler aren't the only ones who came to visit.

SDSC Feb 3 1889 Red Valentine William Ch 2

The rating on Shinigami Dispatch Society Chronicles is MA. The Red Valentine segment is T13+ to M please be advised.

Author’s Note: In this chapter we get to run into Undertaker. If you are a fan of his, remember to keep an eye out for Starlit Scythe’s works. She’ll have her own take of this tale and will be writing in the same version of the world that I am with the Shinigami Dispatch Society Chronicles. If you are a fan of William, hopefully you’ll learn a lot about him and see his character grow a lot during the course of the Chronicles. He’s a far more complicated and nuanced character than might appear at first glance. Right now, he’s having another rough day in both the Human World and Purgatory.

Getting to the ground was the work of a mere moment with his scythe. Getting to Undertaker’s shop proved another matter. While strong enough to carry an unconscious body, he didn’t want to appear to be carrying an unconscious-and-possibly-dead-body, especially when the Ripper murders were scarcely out of people’s memories. Copycats had been carrying on Grell and Madame Red’s handiwork even if the original murders had ended. 

That meant he couldn’t just chuck Grell over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes nor carry him in his arms like a child. No, the only option open to him was to wrap Grell’s arm around his shoulders, securing it with his left hand, while wrapping his right hand around Grell’s waist under his jacket to keep him nominally upright. Trying to walk caused Grell’s head to loll and hang down. Only a few steps forward and William could tell it would not do.

Sighing with annoyance, he pushed Grell firmly against the side of a building and leaned his fellow Reaper’s head against his shoulder and tipped his own head against it to keep it in place. Were Grell to _ever_ learn William voluntarily touched him in such a manner, he’d never hear the end of it. Of course, were Grell conscious, William wouldn’t voluntarily be touching him. “Pity that all your dreams are coming true while you are unconscious, isn’t it?” With that, he stepped forward to make the short journey to Undertaker’s shop.

The large sign overhung the front of the shop marked simply as “Undertakers”. This was where one of the most celebrated Shinigami of all time chose to hide away during his retirement. Casting his eyes about, William noted the increased clutter around the outside of the building. Beyond the usual blank grave markers and caskets, there were a large number of sotoba out front, along with a string of garlic, and not just a few wards. Was the man expecting trouble of some sort? Hefting Grell higher onto his shoulder, William fumbled to keep from dropping his burden as he knocked, well pounded if he were honest with himself, on the door hoping the Undertaker was awake and available. He waited several long moments, but there was no answer. Of course not. He was always summoned to help others, but when he needed help? Never. It was infuriating. Hearing more footsteps coming from further up the street, he had no more time to waste. Giving up any pretense of normality, he just pushed his way through the wooden door with its latticed double windows and stepped into the gloom of the shop. A tall, drifting shadow stepped around the sarcophagus in the back into the central space of the room. 

“Hello-o-o,” rang out Undertaker’s voice in his normally creepy tones, arms waving in their overly-long sleeves. Then he saw William and his voice went flat. “Oh, it’s you.” 

“It’s good to see you, too,” William said dryly. “Could you give me a hand with this useless lump here? I’d have taken him with me back to dispatch, but I fear he may be dead,” William told him in all seriousness. 

That seemed to perk the man up. “Oh? Then you have come to the right place. Set him down over here,” Undertaker said in a voice that almost sounded like his old teacher’s. He gestured to the lid of another sarcophagus lying closed next to one still open, displaying its shadowed depths to all. Quickly complying, William breathed a sigh of relief to be free from his ungainly burden. Taking out a handkerchief, he mopped his brow and the back of his neck. The walk had been arduous even if it had been short. More than one traveler on the road had thought he was walking with a drunken harlot and asked him if he were taking her back to his place. How appropriate was that?! 

That’s what you got visiting the rougher side of town, he supposed. Even so, the idea of being paired up with Grell in people’s minds left his blood boiling. Honestly. People should just mind their own business. One older lady with a stooped back and a dark shawl admonished him for taking liberties with the young lady with him. He explained that she had gotten injured and he was taking her to get help. That seemed to appease the woman and she directed him towards the local hospital. Thanking her he continued on and made the proper turns to the mortician’s shop once the other woman was out of sight. 

The extra walking had left him with a sheen of sweat upon his brow and growling in his stomach that made him even more irritable. The sooner he got this done, the sooner he could have something to eat. “This is Grell Sutcliff. I don’t know if you remember him from your classes, his hair was considerably shorter back then and he wore a lot less red at the time.”

“Oh yes, I remember this youth,” he said in a cheery, if creepy voice. “The spunky child that acted up in class. He’s quite the spirited one, although I can’t condone the murders he’s been conducting in my district.” The cheerful smile turned into a moue of a frown at some internal memory, his lower lip sticking outward as if pouting. 

William quirked an eyebrow.

“So you know about that, do you?” he asked.

“Well, of course! I wouldn’t be much of an information broker if I didn’t, now would I?” came Undertaker’s reply. The smile returned with the swiftness of the sun coming out from a small cloud. Such mercurial moods usually upset William, but from his old teacher it set him at ease. This man’s smile was one of the only ones that greeted them kindly when first they became Shinigami. Somehow seeing it now made the situation seem tolerable.

“I suppose not, although I don’t know why you even became one at all,” William replied at last, adjusting his glasses. 

“I have my reasons, but they would cost you and I think you have bigger things on your plate today,” Undertaker said as he lit a set of candles on a candelabra and held it close to Grell to get a better look at the state of the Reaper.

“That much is true. Can you tell if he’s dead or not?” William finally asked. His worries hadn’t actually subsided, just been pushed back as the two of them talked. Grell didn’t look any less dead in the faint candlelight than he did in the evening’s gloom that preceded it. 

Turning his head, Undertaker gazed at William from beneath his long, overhanging bangs. “Of course I can. No one knows better about death than me. However, I suspect you’re going to have a lot of questions. Questions require payment. How exactly are you going to manage my fee? I require laughter, entertainment. You’ve always been a serious one. Mind you, bringing me a possibly dead Reaper as a client is a bit novel, so I’ll answer your first question for free. After that, though….” The man’s words trailed off and although the candle flames flickered to and fro, the black-robed Reaper stood completely, unnaturally still for a moment as he awaited William’s answer.

Clearing his throat, William adjusted his glasses to buy another moment to think. How could he manage Undertaker’s fee? While he felt he had a sense of humor, it wasn’t something that he could just drag out on a moment’s notice like some did. He didn’t have Ron’s easy-going manner nor Eric’s quick quips to put people at ease. As a manager, he rarely put people at ease. Mulling it over, perhaps he had been a little too dour at work. His mood had lightened when Alan had first arrived. They had help at the office at last and the quiet, gentle young Reaper acted as a balm to his weary soul. He hadn’t been forced to do overtime as much and having another studious person around allowed him to finally relax when in the office. Then Alan became ill. His worries over the junior Reaper had kept him up late at night as he arranged and rearranged the schedules to try and minimize the risk to Alan’s heart.

No, he hadn’t had much humor in him of late. So what would do? 

His hand brushed against his breast pocket as it left his glasses. There was something in there, something other than his completion stamp pen. Cautiously he asked, “Would you accept a pledge towards a future payment?”

“Eh?” Undertaker asked, jerking upright over the corpse of Grell. “That’s not normally my method, and I have some doubts of your ability to pay. What exactly do you have in mind? Although you aren’t the type to promise what you can’t deliver either.” The tall Reaper’s head tilted sideways in curiosity.

“Because of my colleague here, I’ve been stuck investigating a circus. When I joined, they gave me a couple of tickets to give to anyone I chose. Naturally, I had no family left to give them to, and no desire to have any of my colleagues watch me perform. Perhaps it would be enough to entertain you?” William asked. His face heated up at the very thought of any Reaper seeing the farce he had to endure.

“O-o-o-oh? You had to join it did you? What do they have you doing?” Undertaker asked. The man took a step forward. Perhaps it was a good sign? Swallowing hard, William tried to master his emotions. 

“I perform the high wire act,” he said matter-of-factly. His voice almost didn’t quaver.

“That sounds boring. I’ve long been unimpressed by the natural abilities of Reapers.” Undertaker took a step backwards. He was losing him! 

“They make me perform in a garish outfit,” William added desperately.

“O-o-oh? What color is it?” Undertaker asked.

“What color ISN’T it?” he replied tartly. His hand flew up to cradle his head at the very thought of what the troupe made him wear. When he looked up, Undertaker stood immediately before him, so close that he could make out a thin line of drool escaping the side of his mouth. It took all of his training to keep still.

“Well now! That does sound promising.” William offered the tickets to him from between his gloved fingers. Undertaker plucked them free using only the long, black nails gracing his own. Turning back to the red-coated Reaper, Undertaker added, “I suppose I can see what I can do here.”

William sat on the edge of the open sarcophagus and watched. Undertaker checked for a pulse and used a mirror to see if it fogged from any breathing. Then he seemed to compare Grell’s temperature to his own. After several long minutes, during which he asked William to brew some tea, he finally said, “Well, if it is of any comfort to you, your compatriot is not dead.”

William’s heart lifted. “No?” he asked, hopefully. “Then why won’t he awaken? He’s been dealt far more damage than this before and been fine.” William passed over a cup of tea, although calling it a “cup” was being generous since the only things near the tea pot were a collection of beakers, chipped cups, and a couple of Erlenmeyer flasks. At least there had been enough water in the back that he was able to wash them up sufficiently to insure they were safe to use.

Accepting the beaker, Undertaker said, “I’m surprised you went with these. I have a new set of tea cups right here.” He opened a low cabinet near the bookcases that lined the back wall. William blinked.

“Why didn’t you use these when I saw you before?” William asked, staring at the pristine collection.

“Well, I just got them a month ago as a gift. Besides, I use the others for guests I don’t like,” with that, Undertaker chuckled and sipped his tea.

Ugh. So that was his game? He had to wonder if he had warranted the man’s ire last time or if it had been the demon with the young Lord Phantomhive. Best not to ponder it, he decided.

“As to your other question, Grell here is suffering a mix of exhaustion and a spiritual illness,” Undertaker said, suddenly serious again. His voice rang out like flat metal in the still air of the room.

“A spiritual illness?” William repeated, taken aback. First Alan, and now Grell? Surely it wasn’t the Thorns of Death.

“Yes. Grell is struggling greatly with something and it is causing a fever. The fever is bringing on a coma. That along with physical exhaustion from a lack of sleep is taking its toll. You do know how we Reapers require sleep, breathing or no, yes?” the tall Reaper asked him.

“Of course I do!” he snapped. “He’s been under punishment for the murders in the human world and for having an unapproved Deathscythe. Even so, they still allot him plenty of time to sleep.” Normally William wouldn’t give out such sensitive information, but in the interest of curing his colleague, he felt spurred to provide some details. That and the fact that he didn’t care for the good name of management to get smeared by the suggestion that they’d fail to attend to the needs of their underlings.

“Hm-m-m…then I suspect he hasn’t been using it to rest then. What exactly was he doing?” Undertaker asked in a musing tone.

William dug in his side pocket. “He was at a chocolate shop making these.” With that he pulled the box of chocolates free that he planned to turn in as evidence. 

Undertaker cocked his head to the side as if contemplating a strange, new animal. “Was he now? Whatever is in there has quite an aura about it. Could you open the box up for me?” While the request seemed strange, William complied, untying the string and opening the lid to present the contents. He could have just handed the man the box instead.

“Yes. These have a lot of energy put into them.” Turning to Grell’s prone body he said, “What have you been up to that you worked up such a fever over?” The long grey-white strands of hair slid forward as Undertaker leaned over Grell and readjusted the limbs so that the hands were folded over his abdomen as if in repose and then rolled up one of Grell’s sleeves. “I shall need your help for the next part,” the older Reaper said, looking back over his shoulder.

“What is it?” William asked, ready to assist in moving Grell or fetching things. 

“I need you to use your Deathscythe,” Undertaker replied in quiet, calm tones.

_What?!_ ran through William’s mind. Of all the things his old teacher could say, this wasn’t one William expected. Sputtering he said, “I-I really don’t care to see what’s in this man’s record.” Too much of it might be filled with pining for him and for once he believed that ignorance really was bliss. Besides, Grell deserved some dignity and privacy towards his own thoughts. Well, that and the fact that William wasn’t sure how he’d handle it in the office if he knew too much one way or the other. 

“Now, now. I won’t make you read it, but I need to see what is motivating such a powerful reaction. Even among Reapers, such a level of fever is uncommon. This is deeply rooted. In order to help Grell overcome it, I need to know what is causing it at the root,” Undertaker told William with the serious tones he used back when they had important facts to memorize in class.

“Overcome it? I thought you were an Undertaker, sir,” William said, his eyes narrowing as he adjusted his glasses just to buy some time. He deeply, desperately did not want to do this.

“Why-y so surpri-ised?” his former teacher said in his new teasing tones of his Undertaker persona. “Not everyone who comes through my door is as dead as people beli-i-eve. Whom do you think winds up having to do some emergency aid for them when they have been dropped on my doorstep instead of that of a hospital, hm-mm-mm-mm?” Undertaker asked him. “I can tell when someone is truly on Death’s door. Moreover, I can tell which ones are just taking a breather as they rest against it and which ones are ready to cross through.” Glimmers of green winked at him from between the thick bangs that obscured his teacher’s eyes. He’d always kept his hair and bangs long ever since he first met him. While how he wore them may have changed, William could still picture the look his former teacher was giving him.

With a sigh, he pushed his glasses up against the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Steeling himself for a brief moment, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his blue-tipped Deathscythe. He had the spare that he used in the Reaper Library with him as well as his red-tipped field one. It didn’t seem right to use the one he used earlier to visit violence upon Grell. Mentally, that one was for attacking and the reaping of souls. This one he used when putting away books and he considered it to be for more gentle pursuits.

With the lightest of taps he could manage, William cut the bared arm of Grell Sutcliff and stood back as the Cinematic Record began to play. The looming shadow of Undertaker stepped into the space between William and the blue-white light arcing out from Grell’s body. In that moment, he did indeed look like Death’s shadow as he caressed the flowing scenes with care. William partially turned away as he put the scythe back into his breast pocket, but kept one eye upon the waving strands, mindful that Grell’s desires could cause them to get launched at him or lash out at the other Reaper if he felt distressed. That was why they were sent out in pairs for their final exams after all.

“V-e-r-y interesting!” Undertaker murmured, making William both want to know and yet not know what was drawing the older Reaper’s attention. After a few long moments, the light flickered and faded and Undertaker breathed out a long, quiet sigh.

Leaning over the body of Grell, Undertaker spoke. “It seems I have been mistaken all this time. I do apologize. I should have been calling you Miss Sutcliff, not Mister Sutcliff.” Straightening, he turned back to William. “You have been around Grelle for some time. You should have picked up on this sooner. Your friend here…” he began, but Will cut him off.

“Colleague,” he said firmly, adjusting his glasses for emphasis.

“…colleague then. Your colleague has always felt drawn to being a woman. While it wasn’t physically possible for her, Miss Sutcliff became a “stage beauty” during the period when men played the roles of women. That had fallen out of favor more in England, but continued longer in France. Hence, that is why Grelle went there to continue to find work.” Then the Reaper sighed and William wondered if he wanted to hear what came next. 

Undertaker continued. “The time during which a man can maintain the smooth skin and beauty of a young woman is brief. The parts your colleague got offered became fewer. She had been adored and lauded for her skills at playing a woman, and in her mind she was amused that she was simply playing herself. Now, her fans, and lovers, began to dwindle. Rather than stay around and see her star fall, she opted to bow out and draw the final curtain at the time and place of her choosing. So she returned to her native soil of England. She wanted to do it while still at the height of her career than after the world turned away from her. Her plan was to be immortalized as the greatest stage beauty of the age.” 

Undertaker gave a little cough and William felt a tickle in the back of his own throat considering a past that he hadn’t known about with Grell. The man had always said that “he was an actress”. William had mostly written it off as an odd expression of a man who definitely had the flamboyance of an actress. Now it took on new meaning.

The older Reaper leaned down near Grelle’s head and propped his elbow on the stone next to the spilling red tresses and rested his head on his hand as he looked down at the Red Reaper. “Unfortunately, one of the junior actors of the troupe, and a former lover as well, decided to copycat his idol and suicided only a couple of days after Miss Sutcliff. That was the other young man was in the same class as Grelle caused Grelle to fly into a rage which landed the other Reaper in the hospital. I didn’t quite get all the details then, other than one of the student’s felt their death had been upstaged by their junior suiciding on top of them. We separated them, of course, and that is how Miss Sutcliff wound up in my class and with you for your final exam. Funny world isn’t it?”

William didn’t find it terribly funny at all and said so.

“Eh. Whatever.” Stretching, the black-robed Reaper stood up, his Buddhist prayer beads swaying at his waist with the action. “The important thing is, Grelle’s name should have an “e” at the end as she is “Girl-elle” a woman in French, not simply Grell, which is German for angry or flashy. She has been fighting for recognition and to be seen as the woman she feels she is. Fate is not always kind and may not match the form to the mind when a person is born. I’ve seen more than a few, but this case is perhaps the most moving for me. One’s funeral is meant to be the last, great celebration of one’s life and achievements. I rather feel for her for having hers overshadowed after so much planning and effort. It landed her in Purgatory as well. I’m sure that isn’t what she bargained for.”

“I didn’t realize you knew so many languages,” William replied, moderately impressed.

“It’s a hobby. You should have one yourself. Knowing multiple languages always serves a Reaper well,” Undertaker said, sounding more like his old teacher “Silver”. 

With a short sigh that was more of an exasperated exhaling, William touched the edge of his glasses with one hand to emphasize his words. “I am quite aware. I was classically educated, you know,” he said a little defensively. 

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. What do we do about it?” William asked at last.

“Well, she needs an outlet. Those chocolates were meant to get the attention of whichever man she gave them to. She’s put a lot of effort into them, a lot of her own dreams, wishes, hopes, and fantasies. Her goal was to get a gentleman to finally respond to her advances in a way she could accept. Grelle, for all her boisterousness, is quite lonely. However, having to have lived so long as a man in a world where she could not fully express her feminine nature has left Grelle feeling unsure and mixed in emotion as well. Do exercise some patience in this area and allow your colleague to determine what level she is comfortable with. I might suggest using a non-gender specific pronoun as a possibility as Grelle isn’t quite certain exactly where she/he is most comfortable yet. You might try using per, pers, and pim instead of he, her, or him. Just a thought. Anyway…” Coming towards William at such a sharp pace that William had to step aside, Undertaker continued his explanation as he lit some incense before a little Japanese-style shrine on the opposite wall.

“This should help calm the spirit. I can help Grelle by guiding her dreams while she is in this state. If she comes to a positive resolution there, she may awaken refreshed enough to function again. I do strongly suggest she be monitored and made to sleep fully for the next few days afterward so she doesn’t relapse. Will that be all right with you?”

“I didn’t know you could control dreams,” William said, surprised. “I’ve never heard of a Reaper with such a power.”

“Really? It used to be popular for use with children dying from fevers all the time back at the height of my reaping days. It’s amazing what gets forgotten as people Promote. You should remember that it is a power all Reapers have, although we can’t “control dreams” as much as “guide dreams”. You can’t stop what they need to go through, but you can manipulate the dreams so they aren’t as harsh if you need to. It’s more like shepherding.” 

Watching closely, William saw Undertaker lay his fingertips upon either side of Grelle’s temples. “So you told her that her dreams were finally coming true, did you?” Undertaker half-murmured to William. “Let’s build on that shall we?”

William could feel the air shift as something happened. Visually, there was nothing to see, but then again, humans couldn’t normally see Reapers working either. You had to know what to look for or be involved yourself to see certain things. 

“Let me see those chocolates again,” Undertaker said, lifting a hand from one side of Grelle’s face. Just as William fished them back out, the bell on the door rang.

Eyes flying wide, both of them started and Undertaker swiftly picked up Grelle and set her in the open sarcophagus. William helped lever the lid onto it, and Undertaker just finished settling it into place with his boot heel as in walked the young Lord Phantomhive and his demon butler.

_Could this day get any worse?_ William wondered.

Liner Notes:

*"Silver"-In the early translations of the manga, they had Othello calling Undertaker "Whitey". Now, in Japan, the color white is the color of death rather than black. So calling Undertaker "White" was also calling him "Death". However, in the USA, "whitey" is a racial slur and we didn't want to use that. White when made metallic is silver. Undertaker's hair is a sort of grey-white so…silver. Silver also relates to the moon and night which also suits Undertaker fairly well. In other parts of the Shinigami Dispatch Society Chronicles, you'll see that we named Undertaker "Ankou". This name relates to the liner notes from Yana Toboso in her manga series. An ankou is the spirit that guards cemeteries and graveyards. She said she based the character off that concept, hence why he is an undertaker-he now spends his time in graveyards. Instead of reaping souls, he takes care of the dead…it's a related position that doesn't interfere with the activities and lives of mortals. He buries the dead. It's a rather elegant solution to the restrictions Undertaker had to deal with upon leaving Dispatch. It's another title meaning "Death".

Oh-by the way, his name isn't Adrian Crevan. That was chosen by a fan-fic writer. My suspicion was that the first name was that of a boyfriend and the last based off of Wes Craven, the famous horror movie director, just with a slight alteration. I can't confirm the choice at this time, though.

The word/name Crevan is a variant of the term "Craven". While it doesn't mean much today, craven means a contemptable coward and was a dire insult back in the 1300's-1400's when Undertaker was still at his height as a Reaper. There is no way he would allow anyone to call him "craven", nor would he have dubbed himself that. Additionally, Cedric K. Ros, possibly based on Cedric of Rotherwood from the story Ivanhoe (thanks to Abybweisse on tumblr for that research), isn't Undertaker's true name either. He hasn't been called a REAPER in 50 years. He's been called Undertaker during that time. He was reaping souls like Robin Hood and Marie Antoinette way before Cloudia came on the scene. He wasn't born as Cedric. Even if he decided to somehow play both the part of Cedric and somehow have children while also being Undertaker, it STILL WOULDN'T be his true name! He's older than all of that so it becomes just another title he used and discarded. People worked really hard on this one, and it's better than Adrian Crevan, but it still doesn't match up. (I was hopeful for a moment, too.) The riddle of Undertaker's name continues to be like that of the Doctor in Doctor Who-a mystery.

As for his relationship to Ciel that made him so tied to the family? In our fan-fiction he's going to be his godfather. There is a folk story called " **Godfather Death** " in the Grimm's Fairy Tales which is about a couple who asked Death to be the godfather of a human child. Since Death wasn't usually asked such a thing, he was honored and accepted. When the child grew up, Death showed him an herb that could cure all ills. This would allow the boy to become a famous physician. The boy could also see if a sick person would die by whether or not Death stood at the foot of the bed or at the head. He couldn't change their fate, but he could heal those who were not slated to die. However, the king was ill and Death stood at his head. The boy gave the king the herb and he recovered. Death chided him and told him that wasn't allowed. If he did it again, Death would take him instead. The man fell in love with the daughter of the king who also fell ill. He seeks to save, but his own life is forfeit instead. Does that sound a little like "Will the Reaper"?

(There are different variants of the tale. This is the one I'm most familiar with.)

Anyway, that theme being in folklore and that such duties were taken seriously at the time, my colleagues and I believe that this is a more likely possibility for the relationship between Undertaker and Ciel (and his twin) than being a blood relative.

**There is a belief that the emotions you put into your cooking make it taste better…or worse. If you eat something prepared by someone who loves you, it will be more flavorful and help you heal up or get strong. Look at how often characters make home-made chicken soup or leek soup in anime and shows. It is an expression of care and speeds recovery. Conversely, if you eat something made for someone else, you might enjoy it, but you can't get all the nuances. If you eat something that has every emotion someone has put into it…it might make you feel ill! Throwing the emotional spice cabinet into her chocolates is what Grelle has done in this story.

***If you look at the differences in Undertaker's shop between Season 1 and Season 2 of the anime, you will find that there are, indeed, a large number of satoba appearing outside. If you watch, you'll see papers on the walls of his shop with odd characters that make us believe he has been putting up wards. Makes sense given his line of work.

His shop also gets cleaner. We suspect that Undertaker has fallen in love around this point. He voices it both in the Red Valentine Event and in The Most Beautiful Death in the World. So we played off of that for Starlit Scythe's piece.

****Purgatory-We originally thought the "Reaper Realm" was just a subcategory of the heavens, then Yana Toboso announced that Reapers were created from suicides. In the lore she is working with about Heaven and Hell, suicides originally went to Purgatory. Instead of the usual dark space full of ash and the gnashing of teeth, we have a pristine, orderly place that is almost entirely white…the Japanese color of death. The accepted colors there are white, black, greys, silver, and red. This also echoes the business aesthetic of the 1990's-2020's of Japan. In some legends, suicides have to help prevent others from committing suicide. In a few, they are killing spirits. For Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, they are Death Gods. The Grim Reapers are given great power within a limited scope. Their punishment is long hours and having to see death day after day, see the lives of others play out before them because they cut their own short. Additionally, they don't get to see what comes after. Every story ends the same way. It's a harsh thing to have to deal with your own issues while facing the unknown of whether there even is truly anything awaiting you once you finish your punishment/probation. So…it's Purgatory. They just don't like to call it that much of the time.

*****As for Undertaker being able to guide people's dreams, it's likely that Undertaker has more techniques and skills than almost anyone else given that he is one of the oldest Reapers remaining, we believe. Look at how modern many of the reaping tools are! That he and Othello joined "Shinigami Dispatch" around the same time doesn't mean he wasn't collecting souls before that on his own. Hence, that's the take we have here. (It's another reason he's "Legendary". He was doing this before Dispatch was even formed.) It's the difference between joining a large company and being an independent contractor. Anyway, easing people's dreams so they can be collected easier or easing someone else's dreams while a family member or friend is passing away seemed a likely possibility in the power set of the Reapers since they often deal with injured or ill clients/targets.


	3. The Butler Appears!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Ciel have caught William red-handed with the evidence from "The Chocolate Massacre". However, things aren't as they appear. While Undertaker might not be able to get William out of this pickle, there are other guests arriving at Undertaker's shop unexpectedly...

SDSC Feb 3 1889 Red Valentine William Ch 3

Author’s Note: If you know me or my works, you know that I like to take on writing challenges. This whole piece gave me a good workout! The actual event had a lot of fourth-wall breaking and I strove hard to figure out just how to make the lines actually work within the framework of the setting of Black Butler. I was amused and pleased with how it came out in the end. I hope you enjoy it, too! :D

“Undertaker! I have questions for you…” Ciel Phantomhive’s voice rang out imperiously and impudently into the stillness of the shop and suddenly stopped as he saw William, box in hand still. The top had become partially bent to expose the contents when he had hastily taken up the stone lid of the sarcophagus. The misshapen lumps of chocolate were clearly visible from the side that lay facing the Earl and his butler. Had the boy been alone, that would hardly be a problem. However, the red eyes of the demon behind him narrowed and William knew they were undone.

“So. That’s it, is it? I’ve been tracking the chocolate thief and I’ve finally found you,” the demon said. William held stock-still, his glasses flashing as he leveled his gaze at the demon who called himself “Sebastian”. “I have been investigating, under the young master’s orders, the incidents where London’s candy shops have been continuously assaulted, known to the public as “The Chocolate Massacre”…and to think the Grim Reapers were pulling the strings.” With that, the butler pulled out his cutlery knives and fanned them out between his fingers, ready to take William on.

William swiftly fumbled with his free hand to pull his Deathscythe free only to hear Undertaker’s odd voice calling out, “Now, now, no fighting in this shop. A client could come in at any moment. It wouldn’t be proper to have two gentlemen fighting among other’s lost loved ones. Let’s have a little more propriety, shall we? Hm-m-m?” His swaying pace belied the speed of his movement. Undertaker swiftly joined William’s side, and for once, William was grateful. A robed hand lifted and turned over, revealing a scarred wrist and hand holding a beaker of liquid. “Tea?” he asked innocently of the demon.

The chastising words, or perhaps the ritual of hospitality seemed to settle the Grim Reaper’s natural foe. The butler slid his cutlery back into their places and accepted the beaker with gloved hands. “Ah, see? We can be civilized when we choose,” Undertaker went on in more relaxed tones. “Now, let’s avoid calling names or using addresses that might scare the locals, hm?” This last was directed at William and he gave the man a sidelong glance. “I’m sure we can get this all sorted out,” Undertaker added with a grin as he took up his own container of tea and gestured for them to sit down.

Even so, William noted that Undertaker made sure to sit upon the sarcophagus that held Miss Sutcliff within it. The man was wily even as he played foolish. “Let’s talk this out,” Undertaker said in a more normal, quiet tone.

“My Master wishes for me to discover who has been raiding the chocolate shops and put a stop to it. The culprit has even hit the Funtom candy factory which has irked my young Master to no end,” Sebastian told them.

“Well, you are barking up the wrong tree here. This box is evidence,” William said. “The culprit has already been apprehended and awaits punishment, I assure you.”

The red eyes shot sideways towards him as Sebastian sipped his tea. “So it was a Grim Reaper involved then after all, wasn’t it? Let me guess. It’s that ginger that so recently gave us some trouble. I don’t know what possesses you Reapers to keep causing a ruckus in the human world, but I know that I should attempt to bring your friend in for questioning.”

William’s brows drew together angrily. Here he was, garnering overtime on top of overtime field work because of his coworker’s fascination with this demon. Despite Undertaker’s words to take into account Sutcliff’s feelings, William didn’t believe that his colleague took much time to consider how he felt having to fix Grell’s mistakes over and over again. Worse, demons were nothing but trouble and his coworker was far too happy to go dashing into the arms of this soul-eater. All those thoughts boiled swiftly through him and put his teeth on edge. “Do NOT put me in the same league as that pest who uselessly wanders the lower realm. If you’re going to interfere, I will reap you,” William said, reaching towards the scythe in his jacket.

Just then the bell to the shop rang out again. The Phantomhive servants, Baldroy, Finny, and Mey-Rin walked into the gloom, casting their glances about the shop warily. “Hold it! You okay there, Sebastian? Seemed like things were taking a little long, so we came in to check on you,” the self-styled chef proclaimed. 

The little blonde gardener poked his head around Baldroy’s broad shoulders and said, “Yeah, we thought you might be in distress and spotted the movement of more than just you and the undertaker in here and thought you might be in trouble.”

The fiend seemed to pull himself together, exuding further refinement as he stood and straightened his back and waistcoat. “While I appreciate your concern, if I couldn’t manage to talk to an undertaker to get information, what kind of butler would I be?”

Baldroy started to pull out a cigarette case with a habitual motion and then realized his surroundings and stopped. Sliding it slowly, if perhaps regretfully back into his pocket, he said, “So, you got the information did you?”

The butler started, his eyes widening. Silence reigned in the room for several long moments before a soft sniggering began from the spot where Undertaker sat. Glancing at him, William could tell he was trying hard to hold his laughter in, but it was a trial.

Finny’s eyes widened and his whole frame slumped in disbelief. “Wait. You haven’t gotten it? What would happen if you couldn’t do it? We’d have to leave the manor and start new jobs. Maybe helping damsels in distress or something. Maybe we could go and help blokes like him?” This last was directed towards William himself. 

“Me? How would you help me?” he asked aloud before he could stop himself.

“I dunno, maybe we could come to your manor and clean?” Finny answered.

The absurdity of it all caught William off-guard. There was so much wrong with the question he hardly knew where to begin. Finally he settled on an answer. “It would be surprising how mere humans could find the location. It’s a bit out of your reach.”

Finny took it as not being worthy of serving such a lord as William the way he cast his eyes down. Even the chef and maid looked angry and unsettled or embarrassed in turn. The butler shot him a glance that warned him not to upset the mortals. William sighed. Why were they even there complicating things?

“Yo!” called Baldroy, “Don’t underestimate me! I’ve got all the places where manors seek help circled on a map in my pack! I know how to get to places AND read, thank you very much!” 

“You do?” Mey-Rin whispered to him from behind a hand. 

“Hush! They don’t know better, and I can read well enough!” Baldroy hissed back behind his own hand. Pinching the bridge of his nose, William sighed. Their voices were loud enough to be heard by most humans despite their stage whispers. That most of the people in the room before they arrived were not human meant every word was crisp and clear to all present. That included the Undertaker, whose continuing sniggers and snorts made him place both of his hands in front of his face to try and quiet them.

“At any rate, I will get my answers, Baldroy,” Sebastian replied. “As the famous line from a play I saw in Oedo once said, “If the bird doesn’t sing, kill it.” It was a quote attributed to the character of Nobunaga, I believe.” Sebastian bowed, as if paying homage to the famous warrior. Perhaps it was acknowledging the playwright? William didn’t know, but cared not for the man’s theatrics. And he was using the term “man” loosely with this one.

“What was that? That wasn’t funny at all,” Undertaker said moving his hands down and leaving them hanging in the air as listless as his mood now.

“Oedo? Isn’t that eggs? Or, wait, it’s that cheap butter stuff, isn’t it?” Baldroy asked.

“Eggs? If there is a line about eggs in that play, I’d probably like it more, and by the way, I like eggs!” Finny said enthusiastically.

“There are no lines about eggs in that play, I’m pretty sure,” Ciel finally said, chipping into the conversation in a bored manner and touching one delicate, pale hand against his forehead. The fingers carefully avoided nudging his black eyepatch partially visible under his shaggy silver bangs. The conversation went on long enough that the little noble had taken up a perch on one of the other sarcophagi. His dark blue clothing nearly blended into the deep shadows in the room.

“I am not completely certain, but I think not, my young Master,” Sebastian replied with another slight bow of acknowledgment. This time to his lord.

“Ovo is egg and oleo is a butter substitute, although I’m surprised you are familiar with either word,” Sebastian said, his eyes switching to Baldroy.

“I told you I read stuff!” the cook asserted loudly.

Sighing, Sebastion replied, “Regardless, Eodo is a place in Japan. It definitely isn’t eggs.”

“No eggs? Why are we here then? Isn’t this all about a theater play? We came all the way down here for the Oedo line, didn’t we?” Finny asked, his words getting as confused as his thoughts.

“I thought we came from the manor to watch a theater play. Sebastian was scary when he evaluated our practice performance for the play we were supposed to do at Christmas time,” Mey-Rin said. The maid pressed her index fingers together and looked miserable at the memory in her head. William’s eyes narrowed at the news. Had that been what Grell had actually been up to? A chance to be in a play again would definitely draw the flamboyant Reaper’s attention. William had been forced to track Grell down then for ditching his classes only to learn that he had taken up killing mortals with a human accomplice! Why couldn’t his subordinate just do the job as assigned? Why all this haring off constantly?

Lost in his thoughts, he missed the first words from the butler. 

“…Destined for London”, I see. Oh, if it’s the Oedo line you came for then I also happened upon it in a book of quotes from famous people down at the book store where we picked up the copy of the Strand magazine for the young Master. If you truly are interested in reading, you could do far worse than to read the thoughts of those who have left their mark on history.” He sounded almost sincere, until he leaned towards the trio and added, “Of course, I would correct any mistakes you made…if you choose to take on such an endeavor.” This last was directed at Baldroy, who ground his teeth together. Mey-Rin flapped her hands at the chef and tried to get him to calm down.

As if it bothered him not a whit, and likely it didn’t William figured, the demon turned to the last of the trio and said, “Although we don’t have any eggs here, when we get back, I’ll make you something special that I learned of back when I was visiting Japan.”

The lad’s eyes lit up with innocent wonder and William pitied the trail the demon would eventually lead him down. 

“A treat?” Finny asked, his hands balled before him as he bounced up and down with excitement, causing his hat to bob behind him.

The butler spared him a smile. “Indeed. Finny, I’ll make you eat monja. It’s a type of pan-fried batter. I’m sure I can make some interesting varieties for you when we get back. Perhaps our young Master would be willing to try some as well?”

“If you actually know how to make it properly, I might. I’ll let Finny try it before I risk my stomach on your fare,” Ciel replied with a tiny smile at some personal joke between them.

Behind them, Baldroy appeared to be ready to boil over with anger. Mey-Rin couldn’t calm him despite her efforts. “Oy, Sebastian!”

“What is it, Bard?” the butler replied, unflappable as always. “Have you decided to pass on the reading lessons?”

“Shut up, we won’t back down this time! Even if our opponent is you!” Baldroy declared. “All of us worked hard to help with that play. Then you didn’t let us have a single spoken line in the last practice, and after that you pushed the date back to the middle of March and hired a professional dance troupe to put it on! What’s up with that?!”

Even Finny got heated. The young man leaned forward, his straw hat bobbing behind him. “That’s right, that’s right! We’re going to make you be in a play for not letting us, the main characters, talk even one single line-“ his animated rambling got cut off briefly by the chef.

“That’s right, that’s right!” Baldroy shouted from behind Finny, encouraging him.

The young lad continued, “-in the last episode of the first practice run for the play! We were supposed to do a series of exercises to get better at it and then it all just stopped!” 

The black-suited butler started at Finny’s vehemence saying, “I-I did not have a say in that decision…”

Turning towards the young Lord Phantomhive, Finny balled his hands into fists, his blue eyes going wide as he begged, “Young master! Can’t you make Sebastian be in our play?”

The cool blue eye of the richly dressed boy gazed dispassionately at the gardener. “I’ll do no such thing. The very idea is folly, and I don’t have time to waste on useless things. You lot were so bad, I asked Sebastian to try having you not speak any lines at all at that last trial run. That you mix up words like scene and episode is a perfect example! Watching the three of you bumble through a performance made me realize that I needed to hire professionals! That’s why I engaged the Kingetsu dance company. They are said to create the ivory in their backgrounds by using celluloid boards and paper, a very cutting-edge technique! I thought the three of you could attend and possibly learn something by seeing some professionals performing on stage.” The young lord looked away again and plucked at a stray thread on his sleeve. “You’ll have to mend this later, Sebastian.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the demon replied, bowing with the perfect grace of a non-human entity. How no one could see what he was irked William, but it wasn’t his place to point out the demon in the room. He could ill-afford a combat in such a tight space.

“I see how it is,” Bard added in a growling tone. “Finny, we’re going to have to beg.” The young man nodded and looked determined.

“Get ready,” they cried out in unison as they dropped to the floor on their knees, hands clasped in a prayerful way. Even Sebastian gasped at the sight.

“Please, stop this!” Mey-Rin cried out. “Don’t embarrass the master!” She laid a hand on each of their shoulders, ready to haul them back up when the shop bell rang out sharply.

Glancing over, Baldroy asked, “Who is it?” Finny was next to him, his hat obscuring the chef’s view and partially obscuring William’s own. 

Then the boy took in a deep, surprised breath and said, “…Mr. Lau?” 

A Chinese man in elegant robes of peacock blue with dark maroon trim strode into the room and looked around him. “Oh my,” he said in a soft, wondering tone. “I came in here because I thought I heard a woman’s scream…but it appears that there aren’t any women here after all.”

“What?” said Mey-Rin with a sputter, her face growing red with anger behind her thick, round glasses.

The newcomer continued, “However, there is a beautiful lady.” William shook his head at the line. Now the maid’s face turned even redder from a different emotion. “So what is going on here?” Lau asked, leaning against a display case full of mortuary urns. 

The blonde boy, Finny, spoke up again. “We were supposed to be in a play, but our master decided not to let us. We want to him to reconsider.”

“That’s right,” Baldroy said. “This place is about to become a battlefield of begging. I’ll give you a warning. Leave!”

Surprise washed over Lau’s features. “A play is it? I’ve always wanted to play the part of the vampire in a play about Dracula! Ever since a translation of the tale came to my hands, I’ve been fascinated by it. Was she supposed to be in your play, too? It’s not fair to have a beautiful woman all to yourself,” Lau said, closing in on Mey-Rin. The maid lost her grip on the shoulders of her fellow servants, still on their knees as Lau placed his hand under Mey-Rin’s chin and lifted her face to gaze deeply into her eyes.

“Do you know about the tale of Dracula, my young dear? Of how the vampire would come to Lucy in the night, sinking fangs into her soft skin… ravaging her silky body like an animal… sucking every drop of her blood…” he looked down at Baldroy and Finny, “If you’re going to put on the play of Dracula, I can’t leave it up to all of you!”

The cacophony started up again. 

Ciel Phantomhive sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if sharing the headache William could feel coming on. “There is no play about Dracula going on. There is no play going on period!” the young lord snarled at them.

Finny let his palms drop to the side, shrugging in confusion, “Then what about the Kingetsu company?”

The noble boy gritted his teeth, “Fine, other than the one the professionals are putting on, but that’s been pushed back to March!” 

At that point, Undertaker chimed in, “Eh-hee-hee, while this is quite amusing, it is getting a little crowded in here. Could those of you who don’t have business with me please move to the street? I could have a client or some customers arrive at any moment. Time and Death wait for no man.” The owner of the shop stood and drew himself up to his full height, causing Baldroy and Finny to gasp and scramble to their feet. The gloom in the place suddenly deepened, as when the sun passed behind a cloud. A definite chill pervaded the room and made them shiver…all of them except for Lau and the butler.

“Why should I do that?” Lau replied. “I just arrived and wanted to see the show.” With that, he pulled a long pipe from his sleeve and began filling it.

“Could you not smoke inside the building?” Undertaker asked, suddenly taken aback. His loom shrank and his hands waved back and forth in the air beneath his sleeves emphasizing his words.

“I don’t see why not,” Lau said, pausing only briefly.

William glared at him and adjusted his glasses. Retired or no, Undertaker was still a Reaper and Reapers stuck together. “Then I have no choice,” he said, striding forward, “Your leave will be somewhat of a painful process.”

Somehow, between one step and the next, Lau’s pipe disappeared and the man’s hands became a blur of motion. Then Lau spoke, a slow smile spreading across his face, “Oh? And how will you do that?” he asked quietly, nearly whispering in William’s ear.

Something was wrong. The weight of his jacket lessened considerably.

Pausing in shock, William patted his breast pocket. It was gone! “When did he…?!” William began. Looking up, William could see one of his long-handled pruning shears resting much too easily in the blue-robed man’s hands. “That Deathscythe is not something a mere human can wield,” he cried. “Give it back!”

Lau lightly moved backward out of William’s reach. “I wouldn’t say that, Glasses-kun. I once used a fishing rod-like weapon and an extended blade. We see a lot of exotic weapons in the trading business.” One foot slid forward and the other to the side as Lau took up a stance against William. The Deathscythe, HIS Deathscythe, was leveled against him and then the tip rose as Lau prepared to try and use the blade. 

“Here I go!” Lau said into the room where the others had suddenly cleared a circle by pressing themselves up against the walls and shelves of the shop. “My special attack, Iko-“ Lau began, but then the shop bell rang again and the door flew wide, bumping into Lau’s back, and throwing him off balance. William grabbed his scythe behind the bladed tip and pulled hard.

The man landed on the floor with an “oof”, his grip faltering and falling away. Thank goodness! William thought.

Lau seemed ruffled at last, grumbling “Who was the one that disturbed me?” as he got up and dusted himself off. Lit from behind by the greenish glow of the lamp outside of Undertaker’s shop stood none other than Viscount Druitt. He wore an all-white suit with a single blue cabochon at the neck above the cascade of ruffles on his shirt, showing off his wealth as solely the rich could. Only the nobility could keep such an outfit white in this era. Blonde hair blew in the incoming breeze along with some stray petals that William could almost swear the man threw into the air behind him as he stepped into the shop. 

“So there is to be a play is there? And no one thought to inform me?” the nobleman said, his gaze accusatory as he took in the lay of the room.

“The young Master took all our parts away after we practiced so hard!” Baldroy told the man, apparently happy to have someone else to share his complaint with. 

“It’s supposed to be a theater production of Dracula, it will be the very first of its kind!” Lau said in a tone of wonder and awe that he likely used to sell his wares to passing Londoners seeking a taste of foreign lands. 

“Is it now?” The Viscount said, apparently taken in, “Please! Wait a minute!! To go without I, Viscount Druitt, in this journey of love is like Yokohama without Kanagawa! The “tsun” without the “dere”!”

Lau cocked an eyebrow at Druitt and tilted his head. “I don’t believe you’ve read Dracula then, have you?”

“Never mind that, I am possessed by the spirit of the Arts! As a lover of beauty, I am a patron of many of the theaters in London! If you want to put on a play, it’s best that you talk to me,” Druitt said.

After making sure the Phantomhive boy was fine after the ruckus, the butler stepped forward and simply said to the Viscount, “Uhh…please go home.”

The young gardener brightened, saying, “Ah! It’s Impudent Druitt!”

Druitt seemed to round on Finny, only to launch into a melodramatic speech. That wasn’t really surprising for the man. What was surprising was that everyone was putting up with it. William was more concerned with securing his Deathscythe and pulling out his notebook. A situation like this could cause trouble. He’d best record it to protect himself.

Turning half away so that he could write, William could hear Druitt going on about himself. “Yes, yes. How impudent of you all to fight about the merits and deficits of a play without me…hey!! It’s Vis-count Druitt, not ‘Impudent Druitt’. Oh, how the lower classes suffer! My proper name and title is Sir Aleistor Chamber, the Viscount of Druitt. I would recommend you get a better education, little boy. You can’t afford to offend your betters like that. Just because my name is hard to read doesn’t mean you can misplace or misread my name plate like you did at last year’s event! I heard you at the Queen’s Curry Competition where I was invited, yes, invited by the Queen herself to be a judge! If you can’t sound out something properly, you shouldn’t say it aloud in public at all. I spent weeks with people calling me ‘Impudent Druitt’ after that as I passed by. It was a misery, I tell you! ”

Finny laughed at that. “You are a sad person!” he said, sounding not the least bit sad himself. 

The butler lifted a hand to hide the lower half of his face. After a moment he spoke, breaking the silence of Druitt’s fierce pose and Finny’s innocent, carefree one. “Truly. I have lived for many years, but this is the first time I’ve seen a noble perform a nori-tsukkomi comedy act.”

“He is indeed a rare specimen,” William said dryly. Viscount Druitt’s name had come up more than once in the reports that came across his desk. His instincts told him the man would likely show up in them again in the future and his instincts were never wrong. “I should mention him in the Shinigami account book,” he said aloud, mostly to himself. Flipping a few pages ahead he muttered, “Memo, memo,” as he searched for a good spot to put the description without running out of space for the recording of the currently unfolding event.

Lau was sidling much too close to the maid, Mey-Rin, for her comfort it seemed for she stepped closer to where Druitt, Baldroy, and Finny stood and asked, “Are you here to protect me?”

Puffing out his chest as he inhaled, the blow-hard started in on another speech, “Oh, so I was!” He reached out a hand and lifted a strand of her hair to his lips, kissing it lightly before letting it slip through his fingers.

“Hey! Don’t get too familiar with her!” Baldroy snarled at him, stepping between the two. It seemed to not affect Druitt in the least. 

He held out one arm, with the other hand touching his chest as if he were about to serenade the young lady. Instead he spoke. “A crimson princess held hostage by stalwart men…only one can possibly save her. I, having received the blessing of the goddess of beauty…ohh, ohhh!” he moaned, but was cut off before he could get up a full head of steam by the chiming of the bell on the door. Going off once more, it announced yet another guest.

Bard, Lau and Finny called out in unison, “Who is it?”

Druitt seemed taken aback. “Hey! Wait!! My true performance was just about to begin!” His pleas were useless. All eyes were focused on the door. It opened fully to reveal one of the Queen’s men. He was dressed all in white just as Druitt was, yet his clothing and even his hair seemed to shine with a silver-white tone that stood in contrast with the pure white of Viscount Druitt’s clothes. No ruffles adorned the newcomer, merely a smooth, white tailcoat and some length of scarf, like an ascot or similar tucked at the throat.

Everyone else seemed caught by the presence of the person before them, hanging on his words as he chuckled and then said, “I finally found you.” His eyes shot straight to the butler’s. Sebastian gave the slightest of nods in acknowledgement.

“Mr. Ash,” he replied. 

Sure. He looked human. So did the butler. The scent though…the scent gave him away. William wasn’t fooled for a moment. Adjusting his glasses, insuring that they caught the light in the room and flashed to get Ash’s attention, William gave the man a warning look. It worked. Ash’s eyes looked askance at him and then narrowed as he realized whom else was in the room. “To think an angel would even appear here…the situation has become troublesome. Rea-“ he began but was cut off by Baldroy’s shout.

“What are you here for?” Baldroy called out to Ash, looking less than thrilled. The angel simply turned towards him, his palms out in a conciliatory gesture…even though his words were anything but. 

“The same reason you impure beings are here…to fight for what is most precious to me. I serve the Queen and seek to restore purity and order. To that end, I have sought out the thief disrupting the lives and loves of those under Her protection.”

The angel stood calmly and adjusted his gloves as he finished speaking and seemed to offer no further threat or insult until he noticed the Viscount. “Druitt!!” Ash said, his voice ringing out, “Why are you… why… are you wearing whiter clothes than me!? I will not hand over my title as White Butler!!” William’s eyes darted to where the black-coated butler stood. With the angel’s attention elsewhere, he simply took out a needle and thread from a pocket and mended the loose thread on the noble boy’s sleeve. Turning back, William watched the action on the increasingly smaller stage. Undertaker seemed to be gathering some of his breakables and putting them in the back. 

The chef snorted, “Bwa-ha-ha-ha! You are going a little purple.” Finny and Mey-Rin giggled quietly behind him.

Druitt managed to pull out a rose from some hidden pocket and began smelling it. William knew he threw rose petals in the air! For what purpose, he still couldn’t fathom. Perhaps it was to counter the smell of the shop? The chemicals and salts used for preserving bodies weren’t the best thing in the world to deal with. While he pondered, Druitt spoke, “Ahh, it just means that I am more beautiful than you are, and that you are unclean.” The noble turned slightly away as if Ash were of no more import than a passing breeze.

That seemed to set the angel off. “I? I-I am more unclea-“ he cut himself off mid-sentence and began muttering “…Filth…filth…fi-fi-FILTH!” His words grew in volume and stuttering and William worried what the angel would do next. Placing his hand in his jacket, he prepared to pull forth his Deathscythe if the angel tried to attack him or the mortals not listed to die that evening. His jurisdiction as a Reaper might be very narrow, but within those boundaries, he was indeed a Death God and a force to be reckoned with. For the demon, he cared not at all. The two opposites could take it outside and fight until Doomsday, and William would just sip tea and go over paperwork until his own Promotion went through. 

Druitt raised his arms expansively in the small circle of space around them, turning his back fully to the angel who was growing more apoplectic and purple of face by the minute behind Druitt. “That filth will become my belladone and I shall sing!” he said, dubbing Ash with the French word for “nightshade” which undoubtedly added to the angel’s growing fury. “Oh, oooooohhhh…!” he began warming up his voice.

Yet even as he did so, the door swung open so violently that the glass cracked and fragments flew. The bell sounded tiredly as it came to a halt. 

At the door stood Prince Soma and his Khan-sama, Agni. The pair of them had come from outside William’s district and caused some commotion in the human world. Indeed, there were deaths in their wake that William doubted Prince Soma even knew about, but William did. That Soma’s “butler” was said to possess the hand of a God, or a Goddess in this case, worried him. By contrast, Soma seemed bored and said so. “Hey, hurry up. I’m tired of waiting,” Prince Soma said to the assembled in the room.

“Noooooo!!” Druitt cried out, “How dare you interrupt a performer as they begin their performance! How selfish! Are you the youngest child or something?” The flush coming to the Viscount’s cheeks left them as pink as a chrysanthemum. While he managed to look pretty for now, any more and he might lose his contest with Ash, William thought.

Agni, indignant, acted as herald for his master and said, “Do you not know to whom you speak? This is the twenty-sixth son of the Raja of Bengal, Prince Soma Asman Kadar.

Prince Soma for his part simply said to Druitt, “Be quiet. I am a prince.”

A crunching sound underfoot caused the Khan-sama to look down. On the floor, traces of glass lay like fallen snow. “Soma-sama!” he called out. “What a dangerous act! How many times must I tell you that it is my duty as a butler to open doors as to not smash through windows!” 

Soma seemed nonplussed. Pointing at Druitt he said, “But that disturbing white guy was being so loud, I couldn’t just stand there-” he said before getting cut off.

“White is the color that refers to me!!” Ash roared out, his face having barely recovered at all started darkening again.

“Why does it even matter to you?!?!” Mey-Rin finally shouted at him. “Don’t we all have more important things to worry about than who’s shirt is the whitest?” The maid balled fists at her sides, pressing against the dull black cloth of her uniform.

Before Druitt could answer, Agni let forth a wail. “Ahhh… !!! Although it is nearly invisible to the naked eye, I can see it! Small glass fragments on Soma-sama’s body. Please wait a moment…while I, Agni, collect them. I shall pick them off of your clothes. You are being very reckless, my Prince! The cloth of your slippers were not meant for walking on glass. What would you do if you got slivers of glass in your toes?”

The ink-black butler appeared to smile behind a gloved hand at the exchange. Finally he spoke. “Oh? Overprotective as always. Still,” he said, looking at Ciel, “I still have much to learn.” 

“What are you thinking?” the young earl said, as his butler approached him with a purposeful step. “Allow me to take a memo of this: When glass fragments scatter, I, too, shall pick them off the young master.”

The young earl looked less than pleased. “That won’t be necessary,” he said coldly in reply.

“Ah, but my young lord! What kind of butler would I be if I allowed even so small a risk to be left unaddressed? A single sliver of glass will work its way out of the body by whatever path it must. I would not have you injured with the schedule you have to keep,” the black-clothed butler replied.

A chuckle from Ash showed that the self-dubbed white butler had recovered from his earlier fit. “I cannot fault your immaculate efforts in this matter. Should the need arise, then I shall also pick them off Her Majesty.”

Undertaker, looking at the cracks in his window and the mess now covering his shop floor frowned and said, “You know that someone has to repair that, right?”

Prince Soma looked vaguely surprised. “Since Ciel is my host in this foreign country, I believe the honor falls on him.”

“HOW IS THAT AN HONOR?!” Ciel said, his voice exploding out into the quiet chatter in the room.

“Taking care of foreigners improves your Dharma, Ciel. As such, it is an honor to the one who takes on the obligation,” the prince said happily.

Ciel pinched the bridge of his nose. “I somehow fail to see how cleaning up your messes will make my life easier,” Ciel said, glowering at him. Giving a little huff of impatience, he said, “Sebastian, make sure it gets done.”

“Yes, my lord,” his butler replied with a smooth bow.

Looking around the room at the rather large assembly, Ciel said in quieter tones to Soma, “If you do not have any further business, then you should leave.” William silently agreed with the young lord. The shop was far too crowded as it was.

To his surprise, the bored-looking prince replied, “I do have a reason to be here. Agni.”

Agni, for his part, straightened and announced more loudly than was necessary in the tiny confines of the room, “Yes…the prince has come to save you, red lady.”

“Whhhhhaaaaat??!” Mey-Rin cried out, coloring in turn.

Soma walked up to her, simply saying, “That’s right.” The foreign prince leaned forward, extending a single hand, elegantly as if he were born in England. The maid’s face turned as red as her hair as she tentatively reached out her trembling fingers.

“Because… he has fallen in love with you!” Agni boomed and Mey-Rin paused as the rest of the room fell utterly silent.

Liner Notes:

*(Play about Nobunaga.) Badarai no Mitsuhide (Mitsuhide’s tub) the act “Toki-ha Ima Kikyo no Hataage” which would translate in English as “When the Bellflower of the Toki launched its attack”. The “Bellflower” refers to the Akechi crest and “Toki Clan” is the ancestor of Mitsuhide’s clan).

Oda Nobunaga quotes” “If the Bird does not sing, kill it.” 

“If you wish for peace, then prepare for war.”

“Without destruction there is no creation… there is no change.”

**Celluloid on paper: In the OVA from the first season of the anime “His Butler, Performer”, if you pause and read the newspaper article about the play being put on, it has in the middle of it a comment of about “This effect was achieved by using celluloid against a paper background”. Clearly the animators didn’t think anyone would notice. “Hi! We noticed!”  I wanted to fit it in her as a tongue-and-cheek nod to the people who worked so hard to create the anime. However, in researching celluloid, I learned that it was a period item that was usually used in creating an artificial version of ivory. So you can imagine that a theater troupe that used celluloid and papier-mâché for backdrops, or even light against paper to create the shadow of Ophelia’s father behind the curtains would be a striking effect!

***Kingetsu dance company: In the same OVA, the paper Ciel is reading lists the Kingetsu dance company as being the ones performing the upcoming rendition of Hamlet. However, their ship was delayed and thus, Sebastian was forced to use the household servants, Lau, Ran-Mao, Ciel, and Grelle to round out the cast!

(What I’d love to have is a non-blurred version of the Deathscythe Long Submission form!) 

****Nori-tsukomi: A traditional style of Japanese-Kansai comedy. (credit to Ongakugirl for this note and the next one, and the translation of the lines from the event. Thank you!)

*****The voice actor for Finny accidentally read the name for Vicount Druitt as “Impudent” Druitt at a previous event as the characters are similar. It amused everyone so much, they started using “Impudent” when referring to Druitt.

******I recall watching a documentary on India’s history some years ago and I believe they mentioned that some of the Raja’s had extended family serving them to help lower the risk of assassination. It is hard to get access to someone when you have to be family to get near them. Unfortunately, I don’t know what the documentary was called and I had trouble finding information online about it. What I did find was that the Raja of Bengal back in 1888-1889 was Raja Sir Sourindra Mohun Tagore (aka Sourindro Tagore). He was a deep lover of music and elevated it in India from being considered entertainment for the lower classes to an art form worthy of the aristocracy. He was considered the Renaissance Man of Indian Music and was a patron of music as well as an educator. The man wrote several books as well as donating musical instruments to museums, founded schools of music, developed a system of musical notation for Indian music, and set up the first Indian orchestra. He even made an initiative to renew music ties with Japan in 1877 by sending musical intstruments to Emperor Mutsuhito during the Meiji Era.  
However, Sir Jatindramohan Tagore was given the personal title of Raja Bahadur in 1871 which was elevated to Maharaja in 1877 and to Marharaja Bahadur in January of 1890. The title was then made hereditary in 1891. He was granted a coat of arms by the British government of a full sun with a halo of eight rays in blue on a silver background. The crest at the top has Lord Vishnu proper seated upon a tortoise surrounded by a halo of the sun. On the sides of the shield holding it up as supporters are a Royal Bengal tiger and an Indian elephant in gold, both rampant, that is reared up on their hind legs. The motto says: Satyam Balam Kebalam (“Truth the only power”) You can find this and more about him on the Wikipedia page for Jatindramohan Tagore. He, too, was a great lover of music. Which one is Soma’s father, I’m not quite certain.

Dharma-this relates to a person’s lifelong duties towards being a good person through “the right way of living”.  
Karma which is how the positive and negative things a person does affects their future. (If you go into sports, you probably aren’t going to also be a surgeon. Each path is a choice and the choices add up whether it’s a good path or a bad one. Whatever you choose in life, good or bad creates a pattern for future behavior and outcomes.)


	4. Mey-Rin and the Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Want to make Undertaker laugh? Put Ciel and Prince Soma together in a room. Soma has just proposed marriage to Mey-Rin. Ciel wants to know why and it surprised by the answer. 
> 
> William reflects on his school days in the Shinigami Academy when Undertaker was still teaching the ethics course.

SDSC Feb 3 1889 Red Valentine William Ch 4

Author’s Note: It was a lot of fun writing the interactions of Soma and Ciel here. ;)

“Because… he has fallen in love with you!” Agni boomed and Mey-Rin paused as the rest of the room fell utterly silent.

Eyes shining, and charm oozing out of every pore, the young prince said, “That’s Right! We heard you saying you needed aid when we standing outside, and decided to step in. It’s not good for a beautiful young lady to go about without a proper escort in the streets in this dangerous town. If you marry me, I can guarantee that Agni will be able to protect us both.”

"ME?! Marry a prince?!” Mey-Rin nearly shrieked, although for the supernaturals in the room, clearly it was as effective. There were various gestures from winces to touching the ears left ringing from her shout. “But…but, this is so sudden. I don’t know,” she said, twisting her hands together against her apron.

“There will be no wedding!” Ciel called out ringingly into the silence. “Why would you even suggest marrying a commoner?” The little lord appeared unaware of the wincing back of his serving maid. He certainly didn’t mind trampling on the dreams of others, did he? William thought. That explains why he has chained himself to a demon. I wonder if he realizes what such callousness does to the soul?

The prince, in his white scarf trimmed in gold which matched the trim on the blue jacket he wore underneath to help keep out the cold, turned a wide-eyed and innocent expression to Ciel. “Isn’t she your cousin?”

William watched Undertaker raise both arms of his robe to cover his sniggering from the doorway to his private chambers. 

“MY COUSIN?” Ciel cried out, taken aback. Then in a calmer tone he asked, “Whatever gave you that idea?’

“In my country, it is common to have lower ranking family members be those allowed the closest contact with the Rajas. There is less likelihood of assassination when the loss of the Raja would be toppling your own family as well,” the prince went on matter-of-factly.

Even the butler paused, resting his left elbow in his right hand as he lifted his other hand to touch his chin as he thought. “Yes, that does make sense. It seems to work in India, but in England many of the rulers have fallen not to outsiders, but to other branches of their own family,” the demon said at last. It almost felt as an affront to his dignity, but then William reminded himself that his loyalty was no longer to the crown, but to the ranks of the Shinigami. Death broke down barriers and made them all equal.

Ciel’s voice called him back to the present moment. “What does that have to do with anything?” his blue eye flashing with anger and frustration.

“Everything, of course! If she is your cousin, and I marry her, then we will be related, Ciel! Then we can stay together all the time. It will be the best!” the prince went on happily. That did it. Undertaker’s laughter rang out in the near silence, and he collapsed to the ground rolling around in mirth. “Stop! Sto-oooop! I’ll tell ye whatever ye want!” he said, from his ungainly position on the ground. William could feel the blood vessel in his temple start to pound as his ire rose. The man was still a Reaper, even if he was retired. He could stand to have a LITTLE more dignity!

“That’s enough out of you, as well! You’re not helping,” Ciel pronounced coldly. 

“That is very disappointing, Ciel,” Prince Soma replied. Earnest regret appeared to show in his eyes and he grasped the young maid’s hands and said, “Do forgive me, red lady, I must retract my offer. For one shining moment our future spread out before us like it did for Ramakrishna and Sarada Devi, but alas, it is not meant to be! May you not mourn over me, for I shall never forget you!”

Ciel looked heated, his shoulders stiffening as he called out, “You won’t forget her because you see her every day! You’re still loafing about on my estate, you realize!” His butler turned around and William saw the demon’s back vibrating with silent laughter.

“That’s e-e-enough, hee hee, “Undertaker wheezed. “We should all take a break,” he said as he peeled himself off the floor and dusted off his dark robes.

“Agreed,” Ciel said as if he had the authority to do so for the group. However, no one seemed inclined to disagree.

“We were serving curry to the needy in the city as a form of dāna. My prince would love to do an utsarga project so that the people of London would have a place to go to receive such food when they need it, but we do not have the connections yet to achieve that. Instead, we go about ourselves to share food,” Agni told them. It made William wonder what the Reapers in India were like. Did they answer to a different Director than he did?

“Anyways!” Angni continued, “I made curry bread for everyone, so let’s all eat and be friends.” With that Agni and Soma brought curry in from the cart parked across the street outside. For once, no one seemed inclined to disagree. The rules of hospitality held sway. You did not attack someone in their home if you broke bread with them, at least not that same night. William couldn’t be sure what the expectations were in India, but he found it unlikely that the pair playing host to the impromptu dinner party were likely to bother anyone after going through the effort to feed them all.

Bits of conversation flew around the room as they lined up to get one of the curry buns and then took up perches around the various carved stone sarcophagi. Were he not worried over Grell, it might have been pleasant even. Getting a pair of buns, and uttering his thanks, he wandered back to where Undertaker sat and appeared to lounge. However, his spot was still above the Red Reaper’s head, insuring no one else happened to take it. When William sat down and offered him the second curry bun, his old mentor took it with grace and charm. For a moment, he could see how the man managed to keep getting clients despite his unusual approach.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must put the kettle on,” Undertaker told him, “I do hope you’ll keep my spot for me.” The man rose, taking his curry bun with him.

“Of course,” William said, giving the perfunctory reply. He wasn’t sure if he liked the persona of Undertaker as much as he had that of his teacher, Silver. While Silver was actually a nickname, it beat calling him by his Shinigami number of 136649, which was how he introduced himself on the first day of classes. 

His mind drifted back to the memory. “You will call me 136649,” he told them, looking about the room from behind his long bangs and glasses. “What? Are you surprised? You’ve all been given a number in place of a name. You’d best memorize it quick. It will be going on all of your paperwork.” There were murmurs around the room and a palpable increase in tension. “Or you can call me Silver,” he said simply. 

“Is that your name?” one of his classmates asked after raising a hand. 

“No, but it is who I choose to be in this place and is as good of one as any,” Silver had replied. “And that will be your first lesson in ethics. We used to use our own names, back when things were simpler, before people became so numerous. However, times change. The Japanese soul collectors, called ‘Shinigami’ which roughly translates to ‘Death God’ or ‘Death Gods’ for it is its own plural as well, approached the rest of us doing similar work to see about consolidating. They are a very organized society over there, and it sounded all well and good at first.” They all waited for the ‘but’. It was clear that the story was heading towards one and they all sat perfectly still, listening. “But, they decided to issue us a number instead of using our names, you see? I took quite the offense at it. I’ve been doing this type of job for longer than many of them had been alive…or dead. To take away my name was to strip from me one of the few things a person can hold onto in the Afterlife.”

Their teacher had paced the front of the room as he quietly spoke, and suddenly he turned to face them. “And THAT is a cruelty, and no mistake!” He paused and let his words sink in. His long hair was tied back in a loose tail bound at intervals with bows that seemed to echo the appearance of the vertebrae of a spine. William shivered at the thought.

“And yet…” their teacher went on, “Death is a leveling force, isn’t it? It doesn’t really matter who you were, or weren’t, anymore does it? You are on a new path. You can choose a new name if you want to. You have to still face and work with that number every day, but you don’t have to STAY A NUMBER!” The tall Reaper pronounced in ringing tones that uplifted their spirits. Pressing his glasses back against the bridge of his nose, he composed himself then continued. “Your goal here, is to survive and strive to do well enough that you get Promoted. Promotion means that you will go on to a well-deserved Afterlife. Heaven, if you will, for some of you. If you don’t do well…Well,…” and he simply shrugged and in that eloquent emptiness, William felt a shudder pass through him.

He’d already wound up here by miscalculation. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Then and there he decided to aim to keep his new record immaculate. No mistakes, if he could manage it. His mind switched to contemplating Silver’s glasses. He hadn’t seen them in nearly fifty years, but he could still picture them. They were clear and open at the top, with silver lining the bottom and connecting the lenses to the ear pieces. They looked so strange! Like they were upside-down somehow, yet when he thought about it, the weight, the part holding the lens, should be at the bottom for stability. They said that the Reaper’s Glasses of Life told you about the personality of the Reaper, their final pair anyway. William still had the round ones of a trainee at the time and they didn’t fit very well.

His hand went up to adjust his own glasses as he heard his mentor’s voice say, “Haven’t started eating yet?” 

With his mind being drug back to the present, William answered, “No, I suppose not.”

“Waiting for me, were you?” the older Reaper said, handing him a refill on his beaker of tea. William accepted gratefully and took a sip.

“It’s only polite,” William replied, then added, “Ahh. This is relaxing.” He hadn’t had an honest cup of tea in days, and despite having a few sips earlier, he didn’t really get to settle himself and enjoy it. Turning his head to take a bite of the curry bread, he took in snippets of conversation.

“Very relaxing,” he heard the butler say in a quiet tone that reached his ears only. So it was a truce indeed.

The butler turned back to Soma and Agni. “Wait, this one is different than the one you made for the curry competition. What did you use?” the butler was asking, waving the bun in his hand lightly under his nose and giving it a slightly suspicious look.

“Ciel’s butler, it’s exactly the same as the one you made before,” Soma replied.

His manservant interjected with, “I made certain to add the chocolate, too.”

So it was the demon’s recipe? 

That didn’t sit well with William. It had chocolate in it as well? He shook his head. The bitter substance mocked him even now. Between the two, he didn’t think it would be wise to eat it. As he pondered the question, his stomach gave a low rumble. He’d have problems continuing to perform at a functional level if he didn’t eat something, nor could he afford to offend the group that had agreed on a truce in eating together. Sighing, he resolved to only nibble at the bread, avoiding the filling entirely.

That wouldn’t leave him much to eat. Likely it would only whet his appetite. Well, he’d been through worse.

Elsewhere in the room, he could see the little gardener’s face lit up with delight. “It looks delicious!” He and the other servants took up a post close to the door with the young lord. While they looked like they were being deferential, to William’s trained eye, he could see that should trouble start up again, they’d be able to whisk their young master out of the building swiftly. Clever move, William thought. Perhaps there were more to these people than they let on at first glance.

“It sure does,” Baldroy, their cook, exclaimed as he examined the crust like a connoisseur.

“Is it okay for us to have these, Sebastian, sir?” the maid asked, deferring to the next in station.

“I don’t see why not,” Sebastian, the head butler, replied smoothly to her. He smiled at her, but it seemed to encompass the group. “Well then…let’s take a break.”

Various forms of ‘Yes, let’s eat!” arose from around the room in agreement. He turned back to Undertaker who had taken a big bite of his bun. William looked at him with a sense of defeat. He nibbled the edge of his own bun with care. The crust was crispy from the oils it had been fried in. He couldn’t fault its preparation.

“What is the matter, William? Does curry not agree with yo-o-u?” Undertaker teased giving him a grin.

“Not this curry, perhaps,” he replied glumly. 

Behind him he could hear Lau saying, “Ohhh, this is good!” Followed by a much more sensual cry of “Ohh!” from overdramatic Druitt. Finny just exclaimed, “Mm!” into the depths of his curry bun. Everyone seemed to unwind and socialized freely, and William wondered if that was how heaven was like.

Lau and Druitt were sitting near Ash and he could hear Druitt saying, “Ah, I came across the most delightful pattern of embroidered satin in the shops this past week. It had just come in from the trading ships at the Regent’s Canal Dock. Have you seen it?”

“Why no,” Lau answered, leaning forward in interest, his curry bun gone.

“Oh, you would absolutely love it! Such vibrant golds, such vivid browns! Seeing how you love color as I do, I’m sure you would appreciate the artistry that went into making it,” Druitt told him, waving his hands expansively.

“And you say it went on sale February 1st? Perhaps there is still some left. I will have to have Ran-Mao go and hunt it down for me,” Lau replied.

Over by Sebastian, the prince and his servant were holding forth. “After the competition, I had Agni sit down with some of your curry buns and decipher what made them so good,” Prince Soma was saying.

“Indeed. My Prince and I have been experimenting and I believe we replicated your recipe faithfully. Today’s set of curry buns are the first of the perfected recipe. We wanted to see if anyone who was at the competition might be able to confirm it for us.”

“Yes,” the Prince said, picking up the conversation. “It takes one with a discerning palate to determine if it is a match. I was hoping you or Ciel might be such a one.”

“I’m going to fetch some more tea for the others. I only have so many cups,” Undertaker said. 

“Are you going to break out that new set you showed me earlier?” William asked. 

“Goodness no! If I broke them out, this lot would surely break them for me. No, no, such kind gifts should be handled with care. Anyway, I’ll be back, do excuse me,” Undertaker said and drifted swiftly across the room to wash up some questionable containers.

Just as William felt safe to take another bite of his curry bun, Mey-Rin’s voice rang out loudly, “NO! I will NOT be your VALENTINE!! Being your Valentine would surely be the DEATH OF ME!” Adjusting his glasses, William saw that Viscount Druitt was pressing his suit on the young maid. Sighing heavily, he rose, as did every man in the room. Seems the peace was just about over.

“Undertaker!” Ciel shouted.

Popping up from where he was digging on some back shelves, Undertaker announced himself with a “Hee-hee-hee-hee. Who called me-e-e?”

“You know full well it was me,” Ciel snarled, his face like a thunderstorm.

“Oh? I couldn’t be sure, there certainly is a lot of noise in the shop,” he replied in a nearly bored, matter-of-fact way.

“Can’t you do something about this rabble? It’s your shop after all, isn’t it?!” the young lord cried out.

With a sigh, his mourning clothes looking like drifting shadows as he walked, Undertaker said, “Yes, I suppose I can. You all have to leave. Now.” His suddenly serious voice quelled all other conversation.

“We do? But why?” asked Lau from his spot next to Ash. 

“Because it’s Sunday. We’re closed on Sundays,” he said in a voice that brooked no disagreement. “While this has all been quite entertaining, I’m afraid you’ll have to take your party elsewhere. If none of you have a client for me, please consider that someone else may. Only those who have a potential client to bring me should be here, and only after they go and fetch that client first.” While Undertaker wasn’t even looking at him, William could swear he felt the man wink…while facing the other way. It was…unsettling. After a moment, he realized that his mentor was telling him to come back after leading the rest away.

Very well then, he could do that. Standing up, he straightened his waistcoat and jacket and announced to the young lord and his pet demon, “I believe you were investigating a ‘chocolate massacre’. Why don’t I take you to the last location that was attacked just this evening? Perhaps that would satisfy you enough that you can close this case and get on with whatever you have planned next.” 

“That would be acceptable. Sebastian?” the young lord said, glancing at his servant.

“Of course, my lord,” the demon said, opening the door to the shop for his master. William resolved to not let his guard down around the beast when they were alone. “Are you coming?” he called back to the rest of the servants, who suddenly scrambled from the back beneath Undertaker’s sudden laughter. 

“We’re coming!” Bard called out. 

“Just wait for us!” Finny cried. 

“I hope we’re not forgetting anything,” Mey-Rin said as she joined them. 

“I’ll leave it to you then,” Ash said, walking out on their heels so that Sebastian had to hold the door open for him as well. The angel and demon exchanged a look that was unfathomable to William. Best to not get involved. He had enough on his plate for one night as it was.

“Well, there’s not much reason for us to stay now either, is there?” Lau said to the rest of the group as the door drifted closed. 

“I suppose not,” Druitt’s voice replied before it was lost to distance. William heard the shop’s bell ring out twice more as they continued walking up the street.

Hopefully Undertaker wouldn’t have any more clients or guests before he made it back.

Liner Notes:  
*Curry for the Victorians was often a pre-set mix that became a staple in the English kitchen. The fresh curries created by Agni and Sebastian would have been worlds apart from what most of the people were accustomed to eating. In the anime, Agni points out that chocolate was a valid ingredient choice for use with curry. Since the blends vary greatly by region and even household, a wide number of ingredients can go into curries.  
The most impressive thing is that Sebastian managed to find a balance of flavors to his personal curry creation given that he doesn’t have a palate for human food. To pull of such a feat meant he grew a lot in his cooking ability. It’s also impressive that Agni and Soma could recreate the curry that cured people of the curse Agni put on them during the curry competition!


	5. Those Who Value Their Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciel and William have a heart-to-heart while Sebastian investigates inside the building. William gives some insight into how the world looks different to those who have seen death in some form and Ciel learns that he's not as ready to die as he thought.

SDSC Feb 3 1889 Red Valentine William Ch 5

Author’s Note: Here is where you get to discover which chocolate shop got used for this version of the story. Did you guess which one it was? Also, if you watch the Kuroshitsuji Red Valentine Event and see the epilogue with Sebastian and the cake that occurs here when you hear the crash inside the chocolate shop. He couldn’t help himself, but sees the futility of it.

Ash gave Sebastian a nod and William an inscrutable smile before he took a different path. Ciel sent his servants ahead to make other preparations rather than continuing to tag along. William suspected it was their inane chatter that drove him more than concern over their lodgings. 

Leading them on foot, as teleporting was not an option with the mortal in tow, made William realize just how long the walk was. He’d already crisscrossed the town more times than he cared for and his feet were starting to complain. Moreover, he had to still be able to perform tomorrow at that wretched circus. It was fully dark now, and he had yet to sort things out with his subordinate. He wondered when he’d get to see his bed. At least he had the rest of the curry bread itself to nibble on. Getting any street food in London would be nigh impossible at this hour, even if he were willing to risk it.

A final turning brought them alongside the long, warehouse-like building. The band above the shop windows read “Grocer” and beneath that “Provision Merchant”. The next section had larger, bold, upper-case letters spelling out “Hunter”. The last part finally mentioned “Baker” on the upper line and something like Confections or Confectioners on the bottom, but the angle of the building obscured it from view.

“This is it,” he pointed towards the doorway next to the window proclaiming “Bounville Cocoa”, “Cadbury’s Cocoa” and Cadbury’s Chocolate” on the window.

“Hmm, are you sure this is the site of the break-in? There doesn’t appear to be any signs of damage here,” the butler said, shooting him a suspicious look. 

William adjusted his gloves and pointed to the upper window. “They entered from up there.” The demon glanced up along with his little lord.

“Then why did you bother taking us to the front door?” Sebastian asked him in soft tones that belied his annoyance. Then he turned to William and said with all seriousness, “I have your word, you won’t harm the young master?”

William looked affronted and grasped the frame of his glasses, moving them as if to peer closer at the creature in front of him. “He’s not on my to-die list,” he said simply.

Sebastian stood stock still for a moment as if weighing the meaning of the words. Finally he said, “Very well. Wait here my lord.” “The demon then jumped upward. He gained the narrow sill in a single leap.

They waited for some time, and there was a distant noise of breaking glass, as though something hit the floor inside the shop. William remained vigilant as he strained his ears to pick up any signs of a struggle. When nothing else was forthcoming, he assumed that the demon was doing whatever it needed to do in order to investigate.

Alone in the gloom with the young earl, William heard him finally speak, “I feel like we’ve met before, no, I know it. Yet the memory is fuzzy, almost dreamlike. Why is that?”

William turned his head from where the demon entered to where they boy stood. You’re young to have so much despair, he thought. With no preamble but a sigh, he said, “You understand that Grim Reapers represent death incarnate, yes?”

“Yes, of course,” Ciel replied simply.

“How many people truly desire to meet Death?” William said, letting his gaze pierce the young lad. He used his ability to see in the dark and knew it would cause his eyes to glow similarly to those of a cat when a faint light touched their eyes in the gloom. However, his light was from within.

Ciel didn’t answer.

Letting the glow expand to where the phosphorescence touched and reflected off the edges of his spectacles, he added, “Those who are walking the path of Life look at the bright flowers on the side of the road, not the shadows they cast. If you see a child’s drawing of a flower, how often do they include its shadow?”

Ciel looked thoughtful.

“That is why most humans cannot see Reapers. Unless it is their time or they have been touched closely by death…or other such beings as your butler, their eyes and minds slip away from us.”

“Then why can’t I recall you when I can see you clearly here?” the boy cried out, an almost plaintive noise. So young, William thought.

“Because you are not yet done living. That you can recall us at all and adapt to that knowledge without panicking is truly remarkable. Most who see us at the end are not so calm about it. A few are prepared or resigned to their fate, but most are not,” William said, returning his gaze to the broken window.

“That makes no sense! I’ve given my life to this demon-” Ciel said in a harsh whisper, only to have William cut him off.

“No. You have given your death to him.” William spared him a glance. “While you know there are shadows about you, and so you notice when they are near, you aren’t done living yet. You are drinking in every second, precisely because you know that they are going to run out. You hold your life dear, because you know that it is finite, and more, that yours will be truncated early.”

“That’s preposterous! I don’t value my life!” Ciel hissed at him in low tones.

“We Reapers have no time for such self-delusions. It’s not an indulgence we are allowed. You may be able to lie to yourself on this matter, young Lord Phantomhive, but you do not fool me. Ah, I see your manservant is back. It’s time I took my leave.” With that, William bounded towards an opposing rooftop just as the butler jumped down from the window he emerged out of.

“Clearly the building has been broken into and some of their stores are gone, but it has been expertly cleaned up,” Sebastian said, then added, “Do you want me to follow him, my master?”

“No,” Ciel said, as William’s foot touched the top of the cornice and he prepared to make his next leap. “Let him go. He’s not the one we want, and anyway, I suspect we’ve seen the last of these massacres. I’ll let Her Majesty know in the morning. For now, let’s head out. I’m tired and the hour is late.”

A faint, “Very good, my master” reached his ears as he sped back across the rooftops to Undertaker’s shop. Once he arrived, he paused, panting, on the doorstep before straightening and composing himself to enter.

“You’re late,” Undertaker said by way of greeting.

“I was unavoidably detained. Do forgive me. Now then, have you sorted out the problem with my coworker?” William asked.

“Not just yet. As I mentioned, I need your help with this,” Undertaker replied, standing over the now opened sarcophagus. 

Oh yes. His scythe. William drew the blue-tipped one out again. Where normally, he would strike his compatriot with near abandon, seeing his…no her, body lying in state left him feeling trepidatious. It was one thing to correct his coworkers when they were getting out of line. It was another when they were ill or suffering from things beyond their control.

With the lightest of taps he could manage, William started Grelle’s record playing once more. “V-e-e-r-y interesting!” Undertaker said, peering closely. William wondered how the man was reading it without his glasses, but his own focus was on finding the rest of his meal went. There were crumbs around the spot where he recalled leaving it, but no curry bun to be found.

He waited patiently for the older Reaper to finish before asking. Finally, Undertaker leaned back and said, “I believe I know what I need to in order to guide her dreams successfully. However, I want your help, as you should learn how to do this as well. Are you ready?”

“Actually,” William said, and cleared his throat. “Do you happen to know what became of my curry bun?”

The Reaper leaned to the side in surprise, then slowly drifted upright as he said, “E-hee-hee, why yes, yes I do! Those little servants of Lord Phantomhive came back here and asked if they could have it since you didn’t seem to want yours. I said that I handled bodies, not buns, it wasn’t in my jurisdiction, so they took that to be a yes and split it up between them. Seems they aren’t too particular about who’s had a bite out of what, you know?”

William didn’t know and said as much. Ugh. He wasn’t up to doing more without something to eat. Knowing where Undertaker’s biscuits came from, he wasn’t keen on asking for one of those, either. The only thing left that was remotely edible was…the evidence, Grelle’s chocolates. 

“How long will this take?” he asked, hoping to avoid it. 

“W-e-l-l, that’s tricky. While each dream is only a few seconds to a few minutes, it may take hours of effort and multiple dreams on a topic to help someone reach a resolution before they awaken,” Undertaker told him, swaying side to side as he spoke. His hands were already reaching towards Grelle’s temples as William broke in again. 

“Wait just a moment for me, if you would be so kind,” William said stiffly.

“Very well,” his mentor replied. William turned around and with a heavy sigh, opened the box and popped two of the misshapen things into his mouth. 

They were awful.

He forced himself to chew, trying not to think of how they were supposed to be full of Grelle’s energy and draw the attention of the person who accepted them. He could hear the muffled laughter of his mentor behind him as he chewed. Once he believed it was sufficiently masticated, he swallowed hard, forcing the questionable content down his throat. His stomach seemed suspicious of his choice, as did he, but it decided it was too hungry to care and the offering acceptable enough that it stopped rumbling. William was just grateful that it stayed down.

With a ah-herr-a-hem, Undertaker sorted himself and said, “Are you ready?”

“As much as I believe I can be at this particular moment,” came William’s sardonic reply.

“Very good then, let’s get started. Rest your fingers here on the sides like so,” Undertaker said, guiding Willian’s hands to touch Grelle’s temples along with his own. “And let’s begin. We’ll look at what is going through her head, and try to weave the images into a coherent whole.”

“All right then,” William replied. The area around them brightened. It escaped William’s notice at first as it grew slowly, and subtly, but finally the effect took over and images began to form around them. 

They were in Grelle’s dream. 

“Not exactly,” William heard…and yet didn’t. A part of him noted that the words were in his head as if he had heard them in conversation, but his physical ears reported only silence in the room.

“Wait, are you reading my mind?” he thought at Undertaker.

“No, I’m reading Grelle’s, however, since we are here, we may converse in this pocket of her mind. Handy, no?” Undertaker’s mirth washed over him with a golden sheen. It felt nearly physical now. How strange!

“Oh, it’s not so bad. You get used to it in time,” the man said. The words forming inside William’s head. “Now then, let’s see what we have in here, shall we?” A garbled pile of conversation lay across the image of Grelle in her long red hair and equally long red coat as she made her chocolates. She knew the dress code only allowed a minimum amount of color normally, but the acceptable work colors were black, white, grey, and red, so she bent that rule to the hilt to get away with her flamboyant display. Underneath the coat she had a more acceptable and staid uniform of a brown tweed vest, and black pants. Her shoes were more like a boot and while the tips were black, the rest were red, as typical of her. The only difference tonight was a white bow instead of her usual red and white striped one. 

William always found her and Ronald’s efforts to make the rules serve them distasteful. He himself followed the regulations on every point. He wore black from head to toe except for his white button-down shirt. Even his glasses were black, but for the grey on the sides. His scythe was dull metal, with a black handle, and red at the tips as a safety warning more than anything else. His one concession to color was on his alternate scythe. There he allowed himself a hint of the blues he favored. That one didn’t normally see daylight while he was at the office. It was reserved for use in the library where its soft tones blended well with the relaxing atmosphere of books and stone. 

Looking at the images, he could make out the faces of those who visited earlier, but some of the settings were completely wrong! Mash-ups between the advancements allowed in Purgatory warred with the rustic setting of Queen Victoria’s London. Where to begin?

“That part there, where Grelle is making chocolates, is correct, but I have no idea what to make of the rest of it,” William admitted as he stared at the strange images floating around them. The people were familiar, but none of it made sense.

“E-eh-eh-h-h? Oh, I see now. We waited too long. I had started the process before, but we had to hold off with all the commotion in the shop. Grelle, being a Reaper like ourselves, managed to still hear some of the conversation even through the stone of the sarcophagus. E-hee-hee, however, it wound up a tad muffled, so her mind did her best to interpret it. All of it got into her head and her fever dreams. We’re going to have to run it as it is and try to guide it so that it reaches a satisfactory conclusion.”

Although William could still hear Undertaker’s voice, he could tell that the words were now directed at Grelle. “So, little Reaper, what are the secret wishes of your heart? Let them unfold here, in the safe, warm place where dreams can come true. Ah-h-h, so that’s it.”

“What’s it? I don’t see anything,” William said, adjusting his glasses although he wasn’t sure if he were actually doing it or thinking about it.

Undertaker’s voice said, “You said you didn’t want to know. We’ll see how things play out in the end, now shall we?” William gave a mental shrug as he watched Undertaker take ahold of the images around them. With both speed and grace, Undertaker laid down a path for the dream to follow and it played before them similarly to a Cinematic Record. The appearance was different, but the emotions remained present. William steeled himself.

Liner Notes: 

Grim Reaper Powers/Abilities

*Teleportation: Between Sebastian’s trip to the Reaper Library, and how William and Grelle traveled to Germany, we are pretty certain the method is a form of teleportation. Based on this, one of the inherent problems with teleportation is that you don’t want to become one with a wall, a stray dog, or another person. Because of this, Reapers teleport to some of the highest points in London and then work their way down. In our tale, based on the scenes from His Butler, Transmitted and the Green Witch arc in the manga, Reapers use this ability to move between Purgatory and the “Lower Realms”. That includes the physical world. Since Reapers have to be able to collect souls that have been sent to the wrong place in error, we suspect they can also visit Heaven or Hell with it. They don’t usually go past the gates of either without reason or escort, but they can in pursuit of their duties. Mostly, they meet with a liaison after getting permission to make such trips. They definitely want someone to know where they are if something happens to them! One of the Reaper’s strengths is numbers. They back each other up. Collecting souls is a hazardous business!

**Will-o’-the-Wisps: In Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, all the Grim Reapers have phosphorescent green eyes. Yana Toboso said it was to show they really weren’t human. The will-o’-the-wisp is related to the idea of corpse candles and corpse lanterns and foxfire. It is often believed to be the light from dead souls who died in bogs and swamps and still wander the earth. Science suggests it is from swamp gas or phosphorescent fungi or worms. Here, it is definitely supernatural and we allow the Reapers to increase its glow. While it *can * frighten mortals…we have it being used for Reapers to see in the dark. 

Since people can die in all kinds of places, in dark caverns, mine shafts, and deep underwater, this ability helps Reapers to spot the person they are collecting. They don’t have it on every second, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to sleep very easily, and might see things they would rather not! The gift comes with a price, however. The normal eye-color the person had in life is robbed from them. It’s another way that their individuality is stripped and a constant reminder of what they have become.

***Invisibility: In the Green Witch arc, we see that Sascha and Rutger manage to disappear from Ciel’s sight. Ciel has been touched by death in his life with all those he has lost, so he can see Reapers in general, but this is the use of a further ability by them as you can see them still watching Ciel as he leaves. In discussing this one, we decided it was a shifting from using their physical form to going into pure spirit. For this version of the setting of Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler, we have that the Reapers are a mix of physical (so they can interact with things in the human world in the pursuit of their soul-collection duties) and spiritual (so they can see and reap souls). Because of this, when they shift more into the spiritual side, they can become invisible to physical sight instead of just relying on the aversion of the human mind to seeing them.

****Loss/distortion: As you saw here, Shinigami/Grim Reapers are beings most humans are not comfortable around. Thus, just being themselves makes them hard to see or to recall by the humans they work around. The more someone is full of life or afraid of death, the harder it is for them to see Grim Reapers. The closer they are to their time (whether they know it or not) or the more death and sorrow they’ve seen in the world, the easier it is for those people to see Grim Reapers. You can see this in The Story of Will the Reaper (anime season 2 OVA). As Thomas Wallis’ soul is getting collected, a man says “What are you doing there, leave that boy alone” to William, but then William disappears from his sight. No one else is seeing it as they aren’t talking about the man stabbing a sickle into the lad. That man was likely approaching his time…whether he knew it or not! Since the wound William made is not a physical one, but a spiritual one to sever the tie of the soul from the body, he probably just shifted to spirit to continue his work without missing a beat.

Grim Reaper equipment

Memo Book/Journal: Reapers keep a log of what they’ve done and often make personal notes to help them with tracking souls and remembering how they dealt with problems. We see William making a memo in this piece which is off of the Red Valentine Seiyuu Event, and he mentions his journal or log book in The Story of Will the Reaper. Likewise, we see Ronald Knox flip through his memo book/journal in Book of the Atlantic where he proves to himself that he reaped the soul of the person a week earlier. These books can be used as evidence when Reapers are called to the carpet by the Higher Ups for issues. They help protect Reapers by showing exactly what was done on what days, allowing them to prove their innocence in some cases to avoid punishment or to mitigate it due to circumstances.

To-Die List: This list is likely given out weekly for most Reapers, although special cases or long-assignments requiring close quarter observation may have a Reaper out in the field up to a month. They are recalled at that time, at least briefly, to insure the Reaper’s health as well as to make sure they are not getting off-track, update the management, and to find out if there are more people needed to tackle the task. 

Completion stamp/pen: Grim Reapers have a stamp (and often an ink pad) that they use to mark a file "complete" when they have finished collecting a soul. The one William has in season 2 of the anime is a combination stamp/pen. We think it's one of those gifts you get for putting in a certain number of years of service, or a reward for good efforts or even a perk of management. It just makes sense in the office setting that they are in that they get offered some items items that range from weird to almost useful.

Spectacles of Life/Glasses of Life: These are the glasses Reapers receive to correct their near-sightedness and to allow them to collect souls. However, clearly they are more important to younger Reapers, as Undertaker can read cinematic records and collect souls without his.

Deathscythe: The Deathscythe is a tool of unbreakable metal that allows a Grim Reaper/Shinigami to cut the spirit and collect the soul. It also happens to be able to cut through anything physical as well when they desire it. To that end, they are based on the original Grim Reaper's scythe, but the designs have been opened up to most gardening tools that cut in some way, and personalized to the individual Reapers. There is a short form that can be used for regular, basic styles and a long form that is used by Reapers who want something complicated like Grelle's chainsaw or Ron's lawnmower. If you look closely in the anime OVA of "The Story of Will the Reaper" you will see Ron turning in the long form. It's not filled out. No wonder he was trying so hard to charm the secretary who took it! He was talking her into filling it out for him!


	6. Grelle's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inner workings of Grelle's mind get revealed! In her search for love for Valentine's Day, Grelle has to honestly assess what it is that matters most. With so many men vying for her attention, Grelle has to decide what qualities in a person are needed to make a good match. Are good looks and strength enough? Mortals find their matches early because their youthful beauty fades. Immortals keep their beauty, but have other inherent problems. To break her fever, Grelle has to find a proper resolution to buried wishes and hopes inside this dream that Undertaker is using a forgotten Shinigami ability to guide for her. William gets a lesson in both technique and who his coworker really is on the inside. 
> 
> Grelle also reveals what happened in the "incident" at the Shinigami Academy back when she and William were new to being Grim Reapers.

SDSC Feb 3 1889 Red Valentine William Ch 6

Author’s Note: In this chapter we will get to see things from Grell/Grelle’s perspective. While the original play was just humorous, I found some poignant motivations driving Grelle. In the liner notes at the end, I will go over some of why we believe Grelle to have the background we included in the tale.

I hope you enjoy this look into Grelle’s history and psyche.

Inside Grelle’s Dream 

Grelle lovingly dropped spoonsful of chocolate onto a waxed baking sheet, pushing them with the spoon to try and get the spheres to mound properly. They…weren’t working out as well as she had hoped…but they were better than the last two times! This time she bet they’d even be edible! Starting another small row she began to talk to herself. She had to be her own company for most of a month now...well, when she didn’t sneak out anyway. Punishments were SOOOO boring! 

A smile came to her lips as she said, “Hmmmm-n. O-n-ly about 2 more weeks to sleep and then it’ll be Va-len-ti-ne’s DEATH!” Another scoop of chocolate went onto the spoon and then with an almost-deft twist, she dropped it onto the wax paper to join the others. “Ever since the love we shared that night, it’s only been misunderstanding after misunderstanding, but with this chocolate, there’s nothing to worry about! From just a physical relationship, we’ll take it one step further. And it’s all because of it being almost Valen-tine’s! The day when the women can push the men down…all the way to the ground!” she imagined leaning in close for a kiss after winning a heated battle as she dropped another spoonful of chocolate onto the paper. A thrill of excitement shot through her. “Ah, what a lovely e-ve-n-t!! After all, love and hate are opposite sides of the same coin are they not? she thought. She’d read plenty of records where couples fought just to bring on the most passionate lovemaking when they made up! Ahh! That’s what she wanted. With that she started breathily humming the “Bridal Chorus” from the Wagnerian opera “Lohengrin” that she got to catch some years back, although bits of “Mary Had A Little Lamb” managed to scramble themselves into it. 

She couldn’t forget that night. William had forbade her to go, but there was no way she was missing the wedding of Queen Victoria’s oldest child, Princess Victoria Adelaide Mary Louise and Frederick William IV of Prussia. Had it really been thirty years ago just last week? January 25th of 1858…so she guessed it must have been! How time flew when you were an immortal Goddess of Death! She liked the perk of unchanging beauty, but wished she could have gotten the woman’s body she longed when she died. It seemed its own punishment to be trapped so still. That’s why she didn’t worry much about the punishments that management tried to doll out to her. She was already being punished every day! How much worse could it be, really?

“Hmmmm-n. Okay, almost finished! Only a few more and they’ll be done. Just you wait, Sebas-chan. I’ll take you to a romantic wor-ld like you’ve never experienced before!”

The tune was for the march of the bride and groom to the bedchamber and oh! How she longed for such a night herself! To be truly adored by a man, one that would be able to sweep her off her feet, that’s what she longed for! Her humming turned from breathy notes as she thought of the bedchamber to a whooshing breathing. “Ahh!! What am I doing?!” she asked herself suddenly. A hint of blush rose to her cheeks. “I went from humming to the Lamaze technique before I knew it.” That really shouldn’t have surprised her. She had been leafing through some of the future magazines with the secretarial pool recently and read up on it. General Affairs got to attend a special event held at Central where they unveiled the new creations and technologies that the world would be receiving in the next 20 years or so. They also got to pick what the Shinigami adopted each year! Grelle didn’t want to join Secretarial, but she always begged or bullied to go to the events whenever she could. That’s how she found out about chainsaws and fell in love with the design. 

She hung out enough to know how to do the submission forms, although she just didn’t care to bother most of the time. She figured that if she slipped the completed form, sans the approval signature, into the “approved” pile it might get through unnoticed. W-e-l-l, it almost worked. Once she got her hands on the completed prototype, she didn’t care anymore.

This year the new recruit, Ronald Knox, talked his way in as an escort…as if the secretaries were at any risk at the Home and Business Expo, Grelle thought. That’s how he discovered his beast of a Deathscythe, that red lawnmower of his. The red was likely to appease her lovely self. How could she claim he wasn’t listening to her direction when he so clearly paid attention to her lesson on how important the color red was? 

Anyway, this batch was nearly done. Time to set up the box. You just get yourself ready, Sebastian! I’m going to sweep YOU off your feet this time! Even though you’re not the tall, dark, and handsome man I want the most… Grelle thought.

So lost in her own daydreams was she, that the sound of breaking glass caught her off guard and made her cry out. Oh no! she thought. What should I do?? Whomever it is knows someone is here now. Maybe play innocent?

“Mmm…who is it? she called out ingenuously.

A lone figure stepped out of the shadows and her heart simultaneously rose and sank at the sight. The cold green eyes fixed her in place with a glare from behind the familiar rectangular glasses, William… her heart sighed. 

He walked towards her, his pace as steady and even as ever, looking nearly regal in his black suit and tie. “What are you doing there, dispatch officer Grell Sutcliff?” he asked sternly.

She gasped at the sound of his voice breaking into the silence of the room. Here in the closeness and the dark, her mind could imagine a different place for their encounter. “Will?” she asked aloud. Her heart rose in her throat as she saw his eyes start glowing with inner fire. How she wished that the fire warmed his heart as it set hers aflame. Wait, he’d asked her a question. She needed to answer.

“Uhh,” she began, casting around for something to say. “I-I was just making chocolates…” she replied honestly, hoping somehow the truth might appease him.

“And you attacked sweet shops for just that reason? Really,” the dryness of his voice let her know it wasn’t going to work, making her drop her eyes. He went on, “Becoming directly involved in the affairs of the human world is against regulations. Are you prepared for the consequences?”

Pulling herself together she looked up to answer and saw his eyes ablaze with light! The glow became greenish fire dancing atop the edges of his spectacles. His anger tasted nearly palpable to her now and she swallowed in fear. “A-ah-w-wait, Will!” He paused, looking almost like Adonis in a black suit, no a god, the very shadow of Death itself. For a single moment, she believed she might reach him if she tried. Her heart strained against the cage of her breast and the confession she wanted to say rose to her lips. William, I know it is hard for you to understand, but I truly love you. If only you would look past the surface, you’d see how deep my longing, my affection, and my devotion are to you. I only tarry with others because it briefly fills the empty space that holds your shape. Only a word from you can complete the puzzle of my heart. Won’t you say that one word?

Those very words caught in her throat for she knew her straight-laced arrow couldn’t bend for her and she couldn’t mold herself into someone new for him. Only a bitter truth escaped her lips. “Besides, it’s because you’re always playing hard to get-” but she got no farther before his deadly scythe lashed out at her.

“Ahh! Stop doing that!” she cried out as it hit her, then thought, No, it would be better to die by his hand than to never have him accept her feelings, or at least acknowledge them. Could she will herself to die from his strike? Could she convince his Deathscythe to accept her will over his? Let this be the last blow, she begged the cold metal as it stung her. 

A distant sound of William’s voice seemed to say, “All your dreams are coming true.” When she awoke she found herself in the Shinigami cafeteria at work. On the table before her were all her cooking implements and there was chocolate in the double boiler in front of her. Looking into the pot, she saw that the chocolate was at the prime consistency for use. I’d better hurry, she thought, but as she turned, the chocolates were already laid out in perfect rows. Did I make these? They look pretty good! Wait, these are evidence again then aren’t they? William will be angry…

Then she heard the glass of the window breaking again. Turning, she looked up, shocked. Suddenly, before her stood her darkest of dreams, the gloriously beautiful demon of a butler, Sebastian.

“I’ve finally found you,” he said in smooth, dark tones that sent a little thrill of excitement through her. A rousing battle would warm the blood again and might make William forget about the chocolates for a while.

“Sebas-chan!” she answered, watching Will frown out of the corner of her eye. If you’d just answer me, I wouldn’t have to chase him, you know, she thought as she turned her attention to the butler.

The young lord apparently accompanied him, as he slid down from the protection of Sebastian’s back. I wouldn’t mind riding on your back, she thought, or having a demon on my back if it was you. 

“I have been investigating, under the young master’s orders, the incidents where London’s candy shops have been continuously assaulted, known to the public as “The Chocolate Massacre”…and to think the Grim Reapers were pulling the strings.”

William bristled at the very sound of Sebastian’s voice and said, “Do not put me in the same league as that pest who uselessly wanders the lower realm. If you’re going to interfere, I will reap you.” William leveled his scythe at the demon.

“Please stop! Don’t fight over me!” she cried out.

Ah, still you deny to even use the dignity of my name. Am I so beneath your gaze, my cold, beautiful tower? Grelle wondered sadly, but there was no time for her to wallow in despair. The glass shattered again and in through another window came…the Phantomhive servants Bard and Finny! Why are they here? she wondered.

“Hold it!” called the tall, strong chef of the manor house. He didn’t have the supernatural beauty of either the Reaper or the demon, but he did have a strong, rustic, manly charm that Grelle suddenly took note of.

The little, innocent gardener, Finny, seemed charming as well. Even more so when she heard him shout, “Damsel in distress, spotted!” and pointed to her. Grelle recalled how incredulously strong he was and reconsidered whether he could be a man who could protect her or not. She wasn’t usually into younger men, but her real measure was strength and beauty. This budding blossom might hold more hope for her than she first suspected.

Surprised, Sebastian turned half-way around to face them. He didn’t dare turn his back fully on William or Grelle. That’s wise, she thought. “Bard?! Finny? What are you two doing here?” the butler asked. 

Didn’t he know? Hum-m-m, she thought. Aren’t they still with the Phantomhives?

Finny’s next words seem to cast doubt upon the answer. “We had to leave the manor… so we started a new job to help damsels in distress!” The young lad’s infectious grin made a soft smile rise to her own lips. 

William appeared taken aback. Adjusting his glasses, he said, “Surprising how mere humans could find this location.” That made Grelle wonder about it as well. How DID they find them in Purgatory?

Bard, or Baldroy if she were to use his proper name instead of his nickname, answered them quickly. “Don’t underestimate me!” he shouted. “I’ve got all the places where maidens will seek help on the map on my back!” With that, he ripped off his shirt, showing off his bulging muscles and the aforementioned tattoo as he turned around. 

Eh? Grelle wondered. It wasn’t that she was opposed to him, or any of the lovely men around her disrobing, it just seemed odd. If he got a map of London tattooed on his back, he’s definitely dedicated, she thought. There was no time to consider what kind of ink allowed some of the points to move around. Maybe it was the rippling of his muscles? but Finny was speaking and she wanted to focus on his words.

“And by the way…we came all the way here on the Oedo Line!” he told them all cheerfully. The Oedo Line? she thought. They came here on a train? Did they even have those trains yet? Her mind strained through a fog to reach the answer, but Sebastian’s voice sent her questing awry.

Taking a ticket stub from Finny, Sebastian read aloud, “’Destined for London’, I see. Oh, if it’s the Oedo Line, then I also happened to be on it,” he said and coughed as if embarrassed. What? Did he not see them on the same platform and that’s why he was embarrassed? He arrived by train as well? Grelle’s mind drifted into a daydream of Sebastian sitting in an elegant moving car with richly patterned cushions on the train seats, sipping tea as he gazed meaningfully at her over the rim. Oh you devilishly handsome man you! Are you inviting me to tea, or something more? She thought as her face grew feverously warm at the thought. 

Suddenly Sebastian said, “Finny, I’ll make you eat monja.” You’ll make HIM eat monja? What about me? Grelle’s mind suddenly asked. Shouldn’t you ask the lady if she’d like some first? How rude. Grelle’s lips formed a pout as she listened to Bard’s interjection.

“Shut up! We won’t back down this time! Even if our opponent is you,” the Chef shouted.

“That’s right, that’s right!” Finny cried out. “We’re going to make you pay for not letting us main characters talk even one single line-” Wait, what did that make her? One of the chorus? This was getting worse by the minute. Just what was going on?!

Bard interrupted her thoughts once again, “That’s right, that’s right!” he said, crossing his arms over his apron and nodding emphatically.

Finny continued, “-in the last episode of the first series!!” None of this made sense. Even Sebastian’s reply left her wondering what they were talking about. What was happening in the human world that she should be so out of sorts walking in on a conversation like this? She thought she knew Sebastian and his ways by now!

The demon’s words were unexpectedly meek and hesitant. “I-I did not have a say in that decision…” Ciel seemed to be concerned about Sebastian’s sudden mood shift as well for he went and fetched the butler some tea. That’s right. You mere mortal should be serving him! Oh, wait! What about me? You should have served the lady in the room first! she thought.

Things were getting heated on the floor. Bard and Finny were ready to fight Sebastian about…whatever this was. Grelle cried out, “Please, st-o-p!” Just as things were getting out of hand, the sound of glass breaking drew everyone’s attention.

“Who is it?” asked Bard, his fists up.

“Lau-sama?” Finny asked, his eyes going wide and his jaw dropping. His hat slid off his head adding to the comical look of surprise on the young man’s face.

The importer and opium den owner landed with more grace than Grelle imagined the man had in him. He opened with saying, “Oh my, I came here because I thought I heard a woman’s scream…but it appears that there aren’t any women here after all.” Grelle’s cheeks got hotter at his words and she prepared to let him have it when he added, “However, there is a beautiful lady.” 

Grelle’s hands dropped to her sides and her relaxed from where they had balled themselves into fists. A lady? He thought of her as not just a lady, but a beautiful lady? The heat began to recede from her cheeks.

“Eh?” she said, but the tone was hopeful. What came next shocked her even more!

Bard clearly wasn’t done yet, “This place is about to become a battlefield. I’ll give you a warning. Leave!” But why? Grelle wondered. 

Lau quickly answered, “It’s not fair to have a beautiful woman all to yourself.” Grelle was overcome with pleasure. What a charming fellow he was after all! She should have guessed given his fashion sense that he was a connoisseur of love as well. Yes, she should fill up her dance card with different men if they were all interested in her. It was only fair was it not? She let some girlish noises escape her in the excitement.

The gentleman in the rich fabrics wasn’t done yet. “Sinking fangs into her soft skin…ravaging her silky body like an animal…sucking every drop of her blood…I can’t leave it up to all of you.” Now he was speaking her language! Grelle fanned herself from the heat just his words alone generated in her.

William shoved Grelle back behind him, glowering like a thunderstorm as he faced Lau. “Then I have no choice. Your leave will be somewhat of a painful process.” Grelle gasped. Will?! Do you care after all? She wondered. Her heart gave a hopeful flutter in her chest as she watched the two men square off.

“Oh? And how will you do that?” Lau asked in a quiet, unperturbed way laced with cockiness. Even as William looked down at his hands, his scythe was gone. Grelle’s eyes flew wide and she lifted her hands to her mouth in shock. William disarmed? Her Will? Was he not strong enough to protect her and keep her for himself? The other fears buried in her heart began whispering to her and tears graced the edges of her lashes. Don’t lose to him, Will! her heart cried out.

A ceramic turtle appeared on the counter behind Lau that she hadn’t noticed before. Had Lau set it there? Was he mocking William for being too slow or slyly saying that he had “hidden skills”? Could the exotic foreigner with his dangerous ties to the underworld know of techniques that even she, a connoisseur of love, had not discovered? Even if William accepted her love and won this battle, would she be happy? Would she be satisfied with staid, but steady William? A part of her was never certain. He had strength and skill, yes, but did he have passion? Would love with him lead to an endless series of sameness in their encounters until she had no palate for love at all? Her eyes fell to the floor.

Can you win my heart, Will? What would we really be like? A sigh escaped her as her thoughts chased each other. 

She didn’t normally allow her daydreams to go very far. Looking into a future beyond one or two nights brought feelings of anxiousness and uncertainty to the fore. It was always foggy anyway, given that she was a prisoner of Purgatory. For all of her carefree ways, Grelle worried that the place would send her away if she actually found lasting happiness. Where would she or William be if she Promoted? Or if he did? She did her level best to make sure he didn’t disappear on her, while not being so bad off that he might go to the other place either. William had no fondness for demons. She wouldn’t want him to be stuck with them for eternity.

Without her encouragement, William seemed to falter. With a gasp, William glanced at his hands and up at Lau. “When did he…?!” Grelle rarely saw William at a loss for words, but he seemed to recover. “That Deathscythe is not something a mere human can wield. Give it back.”

For his part, Lau held the scythe easy in his hands. Lightly spinning it, he replied, “I wouldn’t say that, Glasses-kun.” Grelle winced. The one thing she knew for certain was that William hated being referred to by his glasses or as “four-eyes”. Lau went on, “I once used a fishing rod-like weapon and an extendable blade. Here I go! My special attack, Iko-” but he never got to finish. 

William lacked any way to defend himself from a mortal! He couldn’t just kill him willy-nilly after all, unlike Grelle. Your straight-laced adherence to the rules is going to get you killed! she thought. Trying desperately to break things up, she yelled, “Ahhh!!! Don’t do that!” 

Just as Grelle feared that William would fall under Lau’s special attack, the sound of glass shattering above them drew everyone’s attention upwards. Lau frowned even as he took up a more defensive pose. “Who was the one that disturbed me?” Lau asked.

A man clad in white with rose petals drifting in from the window behind him was the master of theaters and social events…as well as the head of the black market auctions, Viscount Druitt himself! He wore a brilliantly white outfit, unmarred by the slightest hint of dirt or dust from his travels. He smelled deeply from the rose he carried before he spoke. “Ple-ease, wait a minute!! To go without I, Viscount Druitt in this journey of love is like Yokohama without Kanagawa! The “tsun” without the “dere”!

Ah, here was a beautiful, and dangerous man who could understand Grelle’s passion for beauty and violence. Grelle had reaped a few of the people who had passed through his hands into the auction itself. Druitt considered himself an artist, something Grelle could certainly appreciate seeing how she liked to paint her own victims in bright, vibrant red as they died. Would Druitt make a better companion for her tastes?

Then the rich, dark voice of Sebastian spoke up, “Uhh…Please go home.” Oh my! Could the flamboyant count give even the dreaded demon pause? Hmm, a study in black and white, which chess player would win? she wondered. 

Then Finny’s voice broke in unpleasantly, “Ah! It’s Imputdent Druitt!” Clearly not everyone was as in awe of Druitt as she was. Was the man so ordinary after all?

Druitt narrowed his eyes, raising his head as if he scented something distasteful lying on the ground. With a simple gesture, flipping his hand over to the side, he answered Finny. “Yes, yes. How impudent of you all to fight without me.” Then as if registering exactly what Finny said, he turned fully around and lit into Finny, “Just because my name is hard to read doesn’t mean you can misplace or misread my name plate like last year’s event!”

Finny just giggled and said, “You are a sad person!” with a countenance that was anything BUT sad. Grelle admired the way Finny guilelessly disarmed Druitt. It seemed she wasn’t the only one, as her dark dreamboat, Sebastian had turned around and was doing his level best to hide the laughter that was shaking his shoulders.

At last, Sebastian turned back to face the rest of them and said, “Truly. I have lived for many years, but this is the first time I’ve seen a noble perform a nori-tsukkomi.” Grelle nodded as she pictured it. Nori-tsukkomi was a type of comedy in Japan where someone would say something that went against what the crowd expected and would end with some other actor pointing it out. It was rather like the Punch and Judy puppet plays they had in England. Grelle wondered when someone was going to get hit over the head.

William, who seemed to always take everything seriously, stated, “He is indeed a rare specimen. I should mention him in the Shinigami account book.” Then he started muttering “Memo, memo…” to himself as Grelle curled her upper lip at the sight. Always more interested in your damn books and ledgers than in the beauty and life around you! Why won’t you wake up and smell the roses, Will? she thought.

Her ire carried over as she turned her attention to Druitt. “Enough about that!” she snapped. “Are you here to protect me, too?” she demanded.

“Oh, so I was! A crimson princess held hostage by stalwart men. Only one can possibly save her. I have received the blessing of the goddess of beauty,” Druitt replied. While normally such flowery language would thrill her. She felt broken out of the moment. Druitt’s comments barely included her, she realized. It was mostly about himself. She could be swapped out for any other girl on his list, as long as he stayed the hero. Then Druitt started moaning. “Ohhh, Ooooooooohhh,” he called out, and Grelle was disgusted. It wasn’t out of passion for Grelle herself, she realized. It showed how in love with himself he was. Druitt wasn’t the man for her.

Just as she started to turn away in disillusionment, the sound of glass breaking came to her ears.

“Who is it?” Bard, Finny, and Lau, of all people, called out sweetly in unison. Who is it? Grelle wondered, too. Who might be left to make their presence known.

The Vicount sputtered and complained saying, “Hey!! Wait!! My true performance was only about to begin!” Too bad, Grelle thought, you’ve gotten the shepherd’s crook and pulled off-stage. Let’s see if we can get to the main act at last!

Of all the possibilities, this one was one Grelle had never considered before. Through the opening in the glass of the window appeared…Ash, the angel serving Queen Victoria. Grelle breathed in a slow, deep breath. Could such a pure being desire someone like a Reaper? Could angels even love? Wasn’t that forbidden? Or was it just forbidden with mortals? Grelle wasn’t technically a mortal human anymore. Could the gates be opened wide for such a romance as theirs?

The angel simply chuckled as if in response to her thoughts, making her blush unexpectedly. “I finally found you.”

“Ash-san,” Sebastian said. Of course, Grelle thought. I can’t blame him. How can my flame red compare to his eternal black?

William spoke, as if to take command of the situation, “To think an angel would even appear here. The situation has become…troublesome. Honest-“ he began but was cut off.

Bard said what Grelle thought, “What are you here for?” Yes, what? Grelle echoed in her mind.

The angel landed lightly on his feet and kept his eyes cast down as he said, “The same reason you impure beings are here…to fight for what is most precious to me.” Then he raised his eyes to meet Grelle’s and she could see an unnamable emotion in them. 

Stunned, she said, “EH?! I thought it a little strange at first, but what’s going on? Everyone’s rushing to me and seeking for my body! Maybe…my moteki has arrived?!” Having studied theater and social attitudes for theater work, she knew of the concept of moteki among the Japanese. It represented the period in your life when one was found the most attractive. They believed you could achieve it up to three times in a normal human lifetime, but no one was guaranteed to have all three. Maybe it was arriving 200 years late, but she’d take it!

Then it all came crashing down.

Ash’s eyes looked past her to where Druitt stood. “Druitt!” he called out in challenge, “Why are you… why… ARE YOU WEARING WHITER CLOTHES THAN ME?! I will not hand over my title as White Butler!!” 

Grelle’s jaw hit the floor.

“FOR THAT!?!” she screamed. UUUUUUGGGHH! Her dream come true was turning into a nightmare!

“Ah-ha ha ha,” rang out Bard’s laughter. The Phantomhive chef doubled over, his goggles bouncing in time with the sound. “You’re a little purple!” he called out, wiping tears out of his eyes.

Druitt took Ash’s complaint as nothing more than his due, “Ah, it just means that I am more beautiful, and you are unclean.” That did it. That set the angel off completely.

“I?! I-I am more unclea-…Filth. Filth…fi-fi-fi-fiiiilllth!!” Ash shouted and went into some strange apoplectic fit. Is this what I would be letting myself in for? I’m not even sure what this is, but if he’s that upset about someone wearing more white than him, what is he going to think of the color red? Grelle looked down at her coat. Gathering the material in her hands, she wondered what Ash would make of her for taking it off the back of a dead woman…no, a partner she killed for being unworthy to wear red. Madame Red turned soft and spineless in the end. Grelle lost all respect for the woman in that moment. Where she thought she had a comrade-in-arms that she could bond with over their inability to bear children, she wound up with a woman willing to halt their hunts for the sake of her nephew. Surely she would have adopted him on the spot had Grelle let her. What a waste! Yet…that attitude wasn’t likely to get her into heaven, and heaven was filled with angels like Ash who had no use for a murderous actresses.

Ash wasn’t the one either.

Grelle turned sadly, wearily, back to the group where Druitt was holding forth saying, “That filth will become my BGM and I shall sing! Oh~ oooooooooohhh!!” How did Druitt even know what background music was? The abbreviation was a little out of his time, wasn’t it? There was no more time to chase down that thread for there was the sound of breaking glass from yet another window! The cafeteria staff are going to be so angry about the new natural air conditioning, she thought, but she couldn’t deny her curiosity at who might join them next.

A richly dressed man in Indian clothing with a beautiful white scarf trimmed in gold thread around his shoulders arrived with his manservant right behind him. “Hey, hurry up. I’m tired of waiting,” said the newcomer in a bored voice. 

Druitt seemed to lose his mind. “Nooooooooo!! How selfish! Are you the youngest child!?” As if you have room to talk, Grelle thought sarcastically. 

Soma leveled him with a look. “Be quiet. I am a prince.” Oh, now this man understood color. Grelle loved his bold color choices and the accessories! Ah! Maybe a man who could provide her an outlet for her creative expression was a better choice. 

Then his manservant came in as well. He looked strong and smelled of danger, a heady cologne for a woman such as herself. His voice was deep and had a husky note as he called out, “Soma-sama! What a dangerous act! How many times must I tell you that it is my duty as a butler to smash through windows!”

“But that disturbing white guy was being so loud, I couldn’t just stand there-” the newcomer said. Hmm, he sounded petulant. 

The angel cut him off shouting, “White is the color that refers to me!!” Ugh. She looked between the two of them. On one hand, there was the prince. While his looks matched her criterion, he was clearly used to having his own way. Those who had much were often spoiled, could she cope with someone with an attitude that made them needier than even she was? They might understand each other and then it would be the two of them against the world, but if not, they’d be competing with each other for attention. She’d already dealt with that with the younger actor in her troupe. Things between them started off great. He was impressed by her beauty and skills, but in time he wanted to upstage her, not lift her and fly together. 

That one.

She closed her eyes for a moment and pictured him. That younger protégé played a part in her decision to bow out when she did and how she did. Instead of carrying on in her wake with the skills she had passed onto him, he stupidly decided to emulate her. If he had said that he wanted to exit the stage himself at all, she would have stayed on. Instead he killed himself mere days later, and his death became everyone’s focus even as her funeral ran its course in the background. The idiot didn’t even wait to attend it first! Since not being allowed to attend their own funerals was part of their punishment in Purgatory, she counted on him to at least have some juicy gossip for her as to how well attended and who arrived at hers. When he couldn’t even provide even that much, it was the last straw. She flew at him in a rage and cut him up badly enough with her trainee Deathscythe that she sent him to the Shinigami hospital. It definitely cemented her triple A score in the Practical Skills class! 

That had to have surprised the hospital staff as well. They didn’t get that many cases since Grim Reapers healed pretty quickly on their own. Mostly they seemed to handle incoming souls to make sure they integrated well with their bodies. She still wondered about her teeth. Taking a moment, she fingered them with a gloved hand. They said the blank forms took on the idealized you, set at the age when you felt your best. Well, she had always wanted perfectly straight teeth, but this wasn’t what she had in mind! She still suspected they were part of some intern trainee’s prank or a lackadaisical attitude in the monitoring of their charges, but she had no proof. Had she even a clue who might have been involved, she’d get some REAL answers! Without at least some idea who to even ask, she’d have to threaten the entire hospital staff, and that wasn’t conducive to staying in one piece, so she held her peace. 

She looked up at a shout by the prince’s manservant. “Ahh…!!! Although it is invisible to the naked eye, I can see it! Small glass fragments on Soma-sama’s body. Please wait a moment… I, Agni, shall sniff them up through my nose!” Well…that…that was dedication she supposed. Agni, must be quite strong indeed to survive such activities. Might he be a good match for her?

Sebastian’s response made her really think about it. “Oh? Overprotective as always…I still have much to learn. Allow me to memo this. When glass fragments scatter… I, too, shall sniff the young master,” the butler said utterly serious. Is there something more between the two of you that I don’t know about? Grelle wondered to herself. At least I can believe you would survive sniffing glass off of your young master…but why would you want to? I can come up with much better things to do if you want to get that close to me. 

A chuckle drew her attention off tall, dark, and dangerous over to Ash. “Then I shall also sniff Her Majesty.”

Blending his comment into the remnants of her brief daydream, Grelle said aloud, “Oh, then I’ll just sniff Sebas-chan, too.” Then her mind registered exactly what was said. Okay, that’s just WRONG! Grelle’s mind screamed. “HEY YOU!!” she shouted in the direction of Ash, Agni, and Soma. They turned with a guilty start. “If you’re not here for anything, then leave!” She didn’t need to hear about their exploits when her own love life had been languishing of late. With the punishment on her shoulders, her coworkers were reluctant to even spend much time with her. With her normal duties suspended, she didn’t get to see them in the office and her after work time was nearly non-existent except for when she snuck out to see Sebastian or to the human world where it was harder for them to track her down. 

They might want to punish her, but if she didn’t feel like cooperating they really didn’t have the manpower to stop her!

Soma stepped forward and answered her. “I do have a reason to be here. Agni,” he said, prompting his manservant to speak for him. 

Agni, straightened and stood at attention as he took a deep breath to speak. He looked quite smart in his deep green sherwani jacket with a yellow sash bordered in white that draped down his right side, enhancing his strong lines to Grelle’s eye. Then he announced loudly to everyone, “Yes! The prince has come to save you, Red Lady.”

Soma casually added, “That’s right.” The look he gave her was expectant. 

His manservant added, “Because…he has fallen in love with you!”

An easy grin overtook Soma’s features. “That’s right!” he crowed.

Shocked, Grelle couldn’t deny that hearing someone say those words to her filled her heart to bursting. “YEEESSSSSSS!!” she cried out. “…That confession was a bit lazy, but it’s still working, my moteki! Young and vivacious men are all battling over me! I might just be able to pull off a heroine of a weekly shounen manga right now!” She didn’t expect them to get the reference, but she and the office girls had kept some samples of manga from the Home and Business Expo to pour over. While they liked the art form, they didn’t think the men in the office were ready for that yet, and just kept the sample for themselves. 

Lost in her happiness, she stood there wiggling in place with her eyes closed for some moments. At last she opened them and flung her hand wide to the group and added, “Go on! Fight for me! And let the winner ravage my open blossom!”

Liner Notes:

*Early in the anime, during the Red Reaper /Jack the Ripper arc, we hear Grell/Grelle calling herself “an actress”. Most readers are aware that Yana Toboso said that Grelle can be considered a pre-surgery transgender woman. There is some of that played out in the Red Reaper arc. Grelle teams up with Madame Red because Baroness Angelina “Anne” Dalles-Burnett lost her ability to have children after a carriage accident that cost her the life of her unborn child and her uterus. Grelle never had one. Both longed to have children.

Beyond that, though, Grelle’s claim of being an actress and because of the time period that was before 1779, is because back then, women weren’t allowed to be on stage. They had youthful-looking men play the parts. Such specialty actors were called “Stage Beauties”. Around the time of Thomas Wallis’ death, which is the period in which William and Grelle had committed suicide as they were in classes to learn how to become Reapers, Stage Beauties were falling out of favor. The practice continued longer in France, so in this version of the tale, that’s where Grelle went to continue to find work. That correlates to the Manga when she asks William if they can go shopping. It’s Baden Baden she chooses-which is 10km/6 miles east of the Rhine sharing its border with France. She likely learned about the spa town while still in her acting troupe and probably made a day-trip there at some point!

That being said, Grell/Grelle has lived around 250-300 years as a man. We intend to portray some gender fluidity in the story as Yana has shown Grell/Grelle to use a mix of masculine terminology and feminine terminology in reference to perself. That's why you'll see the per/pers/pim pronouns get introduced. Grell/Grelle has an evolving concept of gender identity and self. Per greatest lesson is to stay true to yourself even in the face of conformity. There is a way to work the system to allow you to shine no matter the situation. 

(Yana originally said most of these beings were supernatural, like Sebastian, so they didn’t have birth dates, but by making them human suicides, which means the Reapers do have birth dates and death dates. That change really threw a monkey wrench into our writing, let me tell you! We had to go back and get the immortal, ever-existing, unchanging Reapers to fit the new profile. I really want to see when their birthdays are now!)

Later in The Story of Will the Reaper in the OVA set for second season, we see Grelle dressed in very jaunty attire. So much so that William goes, “What are you wearing??” This outfit suggests that Grelle was attempting to find members of the Macaroni Club. The Macaroni Club (formerly Maccaroni) involved men in the 1700’s who were exceedingly fashionable and dressed and even spoke in an outlandishly affected manner. The term arose from young men who had visited Italy on the Grand Tour who developed a liking for macaroni-a type of pasta that wasn’t seen much in England at the time. Thus, anything fashionable was dubbed “very maccaroni”. (Incidentally, this is the same “Macaroni” mentioned in the song Yankee Doodle Dandy. There the song mocks the person in it as being like a country bumpkin who thought that putting a feather in his cap was high fashion.) The macaronic verse stated: 

There is indeed a kind of animal, neither male nor female, a thing of neuter gender lately [1770] started up among us, it is called a macaroni. It talks without meaning, it smiles without pleasantry, it eats without appetite, it rides without exercise, it wenches without passion.

While the author clearly didn’t care for the fad, it fits Grelle’s stylings quite well as she likely desired to transcend gender and loves fashion. That it would draw attractive, well-to-do, socialites didn’t hurt, either. That’s why she was disappointed to find no one of the caliber she desired around the district of London they were visiting. 

The dandies that came later were a more masculine reaction to the excesses of the macaroni. You can find this information on Wikipedia.org under “Macaroni (fashion).

**Both "The Bridal Chorus" and "The Bridal March" come from older sources then one might expect. One was done by Wagner, the other was from Shakespeare's plays.

***As trendy as Grell/Grelle is, there is no way per would miss the wedding of Queen Victoria's oldest child, Princess Victoria Adelaide Mary Louise and Frederick William IV of Prussia.


	7. A Valentine's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grelle's fever dream goes from eating curry to having children. Who will the parent be and will she ever wake up from the fever? William and Undertaker are about to find out.

SDSC Feb 3 1889 Red Valentine William Ch 7

Author’s Note: We are now approaching the completion of the tale. Since Grelle wasn’t at the Curry Competition, she imagines the curry to be served on bread rather than as a filling inside of bread. You can compare the lines in Grelle’s dream which come from the lines in the event to the ones earlier to see how Grelle scrambled them up or misheard them. The most surprising thing that happened to me while writing this was to discover the depth of Grelle’s thoughts. The Red Valentine Seiyu Event was a light-hearted one for fans of the show. While the lines remain faithful, the tone took quite a turn as Grelle looked over all the men vying for her and really thought about who would make the best match for her. It revealed her own fears as well as hopes and desires. I hope you enjoy the conclusion. Do leave your thoughts in the comments. I would appreciate feedback. Thank you for taking time to visit and give this tale a chance.

As she paused, her eyes took in the scene before her and her hand dropped unceremoniously to her side. Agni and Soma were passing out naan bread and filling it with curry. “Anyways! I made curry bread for everyone, so let’s all eat and be friends.” What kind of response was that to her invitation? She opened up her heart and shared her feelings with everyone and all they wanted to do was eat bread?

“Eehh? You light eater! Fight for me!” she cried, creating a pun off of their activity and making the suggestion that maybe Agni didn’t have much of an appetite for love. 

It didn’t seem to have any effect.

All around her the other men passed her by, choosing to cluster around Agni and Soma. Bits of conversation flew around her as she lined up behind them. She might as well see what sort of meal it was that tasted so good that her offer sat languishing on the table.

Prince Soma handed out the flat rounds of bread and Agni dished up the sauce. Sebastian managed to be first in line, Ciel apparently had wandered off. As the butler got served up, he took a delicate whiff of the rising steam and made a comment that was too low for Grelle to hear. Coming closer she heard Soma quite plainly. “Ciel’s butler, it’s exactly the same as the one you made before.”

She could see Sebastian’s surprise even from her angle. Agni added, “I made sure to add the chocolate, too.” So this had chocolate in it? More than that, it was Sebast-chan’s creation first? Well now! It would be quite a treat to have Sebastian’s chocolates for Valentine’s even if it was through the messengers of Agni and Soma.

The servants were getting theirs ahead of her and it seemed that everyone else had gotten theirs as well. She didn’t even remember them getting dished up, but there was the food wrapped into neat little packages in their hands so it must have happened. Finny lit up like a Christmas tree with all the candles aglow as he got served. “It looks delicious!” he said by way of thanks and admiration in one. Agni gave him a benevolent smile and Soma grinned proudly, his chest inflating under the unabashed praise.

Sebastian said, “Well then…let’s take a break,” to the group. The others started taking up positions in a semi-circle as if it were rehearsed and only she was unaware of the procedure.

“Huh?” she replied. It seemed like everyone had food except her! Wouldn’t Sebas-chan at least wait for her to get a bite for herself before inviting everyone else to dig in? Fortunately for her, Agni did not leave her wanting. With his prince also served up, Agni smiled and made sure Grelle had a share. She gave him a smile in return and a cheery wave as she joined the group.

Agni got his and joined everyone else as well. As one they all said, “Let’s eat!” With that, everyone took a bite out of their meal. Grelle’s eyes lit up.

“Oh! What is this!?” she said. The flavor transported her. This was curry? It tasted like nothing else she’d had in her entire life! She’d had some excellent pastries and roux in France and mulligatawny soup along the docks, but nothing compared to this! Rich, deep, and complex, had she never tried it, she would never have known that chocolate could be so good AND savory both.

Lau echoed her saying, “This is good!” He seemed to be looking around for a nice spot to lounge and take it in properly, but the sterile countertops of the Shinigami kitchens didn’t offer much in the way of comfort.

She could hear Druitt’s “Ohh!” of delight and William saying, “This is relaxing.” Then she heard Sebastian echoing him saying, “Very relaxing”. Those two agreeing on something? She never thought she’d see that happen! This was a red-letter day indeed.   
Finny bit into his and simply let out a happy “Mmm!” A happy truce seemed to break out among the group. Food always brought people together, she thought. Special, rare treats like chocolate, made even a simple meal feel like a festival. The sense of isolation and emptiness lifted. Here she wasn’t apart from the crowd, moving as a shadow among mortals, but actually a part of it. She allowed herself to relax and mingle.

Agni held up a manga like the one she was reading with the secretarial pool. It had Sebastian’s image on the cover. She definitely wanted a copy of that! Agni was explaining the details to Lau, who nodded and raised his hand to his chin in thought. Lau asked Agni a question, but it was too soft for her to hear. Agni answered something in his deep, rumbling tones that Grelle missed, but he held up his copy of the book and laughed at something on the pages.

“On sale February 1st?” Lau asked him. Agni nodded and led him over to another countertop further back that had more of the curry in a tureen and a covered plate full of naan bread. Next to them the countertop was littered with volumes of manga. 

“There’s more over here,” Agni said. Grelle wasn’t sure if he meant the curry or the manga. How did they even know what manga was? She only knew because of the secretarial pool! Then she realized that each of the volumes sported the picture of one of the group. Grelle excitedly lifted the copy that held her picture, then noticed the volume just below it held William’s picture. Agni’s slipped out from beneath that one as Grelle disturbed the haphazard pile. Hmm, perhaps a date lay ahead in her and Agni’s future? 

Casually leaning against the counter, she accepted another round of curry and bread as she leafed through the book. Might she discover her own future by reading it? She half-listened to Agni explaining the curry contest and the recipe he used and the one Sebastian used that won.

“The curry and bread was all made originally for this day?” she murmured in response, carefully turning the page with her pinkie as to not drop the book or mar its pages. It really was good, nothing like the pre-made “curry” powder that Victorians were so fond of.

Agni was saying that he didn’t know she was one to read books. “Oh, I’m definitely one,” she replied. It just depends on what kind of book it is, she thought. She preferred romances over ledgers and scripts over reports. Even a rollicking action tale would rouse her more than those dull, mundane lives she had to stare at over, and over again. She’d settle for any sort of fantasy escape let her get away from the doldrums of everyday English life.

Conversation from the other room reached her ears as she delved into the book. The realization hit her that while she gazed into her future, the present was passing her by! “What am I saying, stupid!!” she growled at herself. “I need to get back the popularity I just had.” All the men she wanted to date were in the same room and talking peacefully together! “This must be a miracle sent from the Valentine God!” She set down her manga and saw that Lau and Agni had left her as well. They were joining the rest of the group. Leaving her alone. She had no time to waste! “I beg of you…bestow upon me my moteki once more!!”

Bright lights shining off the stainless steel countertops were all that greeted her. What was wrong? “…Arg!...I do not have enough maiden power...! Wait a minute,” she said and paused. She wasn’t the only woman to long to find someone special who would care about her in return. She knew they held the same dreams she did. “If there are other maidens in love in this world, please lend me your energy!” Together, they’d make an explosion of love! A firework that would get the attention of the Valentine God himself!

“When I say “Valen”, shout “tine” with a loud voice! Valen!!” she cried out and miraculously she could hear a maiden calling back, “TI-NE!” It sounded like one maiden, albeit she was a feisty one, Grelle needed more.

“Is that all the love you’ve got? VALEN!!!” she shouted, and the return came back multiplied and louder, “TINE!!” Magic worked best in three’s, didn’t it? Three’s the charm? Best to be safe, she thought as she called out once more, “VALE-N!!”

A thunderous reply of “TINE!!” answered her. Unable to stop herself, she added, “I’m simply a butler to…” and the voices called back, “DIE FOR!!” Grelle squealed and said, “Ah, thank you!” to the women in love who gave her the support of their love in turn. Surely they could reach heaven with their cries.

“Hee, hee, hee. Who called me-e-e?” said a voice from above. Dull black robes fluttered as the form descended. He was tall, well over 6 feet, and sported rounded white wings like a moth or a very plain butterfly on his back. Well, what did you expect? Even gods have to obey the strict codes on color in this place, she thought sardonically. Apparently, he made up for it with a red and pink scythe topped with a heart in place of a skull. Hmm, a scythe? Black robes and hat, white hair, wait a minute!

“You are…Hey! You’re just that undertaker!” she snarled angrily, then had another thought. In a calmer voice, shier and more maidenly, she asked, “Are you…” and she pressed her index fingers together as she worked up the courage to say, “…here to calm my fire?” 

The person replied, “Undertaker-? Who are you talking about? I am the Valentine Fairy.” He lifted a hand to shield eyes already hidden from view by long white bangs as he added, “Who used an enormous amount of maiden power to summon me-e? I will grant any wish you desire-e-e.”

Clapping her hands together, Grelle confessed to the fairy, “I was the one who summoned you. So, Valentine Fairy, please give me my moteki now!”

She barely got the words out when a very flat reply came of, “Not today.” Startled, she was taken aback.

“Eh?! Why?!” she pleaded. “Why can’t it be today?!” Were there some unknown rules to this as well? Could you not have two moteki moments in a single day?

“Because it’s Sunday. We’re closed on Sundays, hee-hee-hee,” came the reply. It was so uncouth, unkind, unexpected, that Grelle flew at him in a rage. Grabbing him around the throat she shouted at the Valentine Fairy, “HEY!!! Love doesn’t have weekdays or holidays!! JUST GET THE HECK ON WITH IT!!!”

Facing the Red Reaper’s rage, the Valentine Fairy coughed out an answer between shakes. “Ugh!!” Grelle let up enough that he added, “A maiden’s strength surely is amazing. I guess I have no choice!” Grelle released him and his voice immediately recovered. “Here,” he said, and with a casual sweep of his arms and lifting of his fingers the mood of the room shifted. A sound like the distant tone of a silver bell floated in the air. The casual conversation died off and everyone stared at the food in their hands or at one another. A singular vibe, a thought shot through them, but Finny was the first one to voice it.

“I…I can’t stand it! I don’t want this bread! I want that lady’s chocolate!” he cried with a note of confused longing in his voice.

“Eh?” Grelle said, observing the spectacle. Was it really happening?

Bard straightened and said, “I’ll agree on that, Finny. But that babe is mine!” Oh, he certainly knew what he wanted didn’t he? she thought as excitement coursed down her frame.

Lau’s soft voice cut through the brief silence, “How interesting,” he said in answer to Baldroy’s bold statement, “but I can’t just stand by and watch. I will be the one to take her home.” Sliding his front foot back, he moved his arms upward into a martial stance, ready to take on all-comers.

“It’s here!” Grelle cried out in wonder. Her moteki really had come again! She clapped her hands together in excitement, gazing out at the hot battle about to begin over her. Now, now boys, DO fight over me. 

Druitt pulled out one of his roses, took a sniff of it and said, “Oh-ooohh! I will be the one to hold that crimson robin.” The move with the rose was a feint. His other hand slipped behind him and pulled out a whip! He is a naughty one, isn’t he? Grelle thought.

Even the angel, Ash, spoke in her defense. “You trash! Do not lay your filthy hands upon that pure maiden!” How sweet his words were, even if no one had called her a “pure maiden” in many a year.

Sighing with happiness, Grelle tilted her head to the side and kicked up one foot behind her in joy. “It’s really a miracle!”

Then William broke in with disgust. “Honestly.” For a moment she thought he would halt the party. Then he shocked her with his next words. “Despite being a useless dispatch officer, she is still a Shinigami. I will work overtime to pull you ticks off of her even if it takes all night.” The last words were spoken in a lascivious tone that Grelle had never heard fall from William’s lips. It sounded like he would be there in a very different capacity than her boss once everyone had exhausted themselves trying to reach her.

Oh my, she thought. The single word, “Will!” escaped her, full of hope and longing. You never could just come straight out and say it, could you? Always some roundabout method with you, but I always knew you had more to you than you let on with your cold demeanor. Come, discover the fires of love with me, Will!

It didn’t seem that it would be so simple. Prince Soma spoke up and said, “Agni, this is an order. Annihilate everyone here and take this woman back to my palace.” He no longer sounded bored. While he didn’t shout, his voice was firm. The young prince clearly knew what he wanted. 

His manservant prepared to take action. “Jyo Agy..uh…” he began, then faltered. “Forgive me, prince.” He cast his grey eyes downward, his face looking pained. “I, too, wish for her…” he raised his head, steel entering his eyes and his demeanor. “So, I cannot Jyo Agya that order!”

“Ehh?!” came Soma’s reply. Oh yes, young prince. What WILL you do without your loyal retainer to carry out your wishes? Are you man enough to take me for yourself? Can you really handle it when money and position won’t save you? Grelle thought. Then to her surprise, Prince Soma took up a fighting stance of his own. Was he more than just talk after all?

The Valentine Fairy stepped alongside her, his dark robes nearly brushing her own red coat. “I’m tired of being on the cheering side, too. Right now, I’d rather have love than a laugh!” 

In the little space in the back of Grelle’s mind where William and Undertaker viewed Grelle’s fever dream, William leveled a stare at Undertaker. “What, precisely, was that about?” William asked him. His old teacher gave a breathy, “Ah, hee hee,” that sounded less polished and more embarrassed for once. Was he actually interested in Grelle? William didn’t think so, otherwise he’d see the old Reaper around more. He occasionally stopped by the Reaper Library still, but Silver mostly passed a few words with him rather than the rest of the staff. Besides, if there were even a hint that someone liked her, Grelle would have been talking about it all over the office. Mostly trying to provoke a reaction out of me, he admitted to himself and gave an exasperated huff.

That seemed to draw forth more words from Undertaker. 

“W-e-l-l, you see, in guiding a dream you can project your own thought in to help get their own thoughts to follow a path. It’s rather like reading a storybook to a child and having them close their eyes and imagine the scene. If you let your attention waver, you may mess up the script or add more than you intend. Look away, and the dream may go off in a very unexpected direction. You must keep your focus and keep a light touch.” The man was babbling, even if the information proved enlightening. Where’s your fee now? he wondered. Mentally commanding his body while keeping part of his mind focused on the farce that he was stuck observing, he took two more of the chocolates out and popped them in his mouth. 

The taste remained shockingly awful and nearly jarred him out of the delicate mental state he strove to maintain to watch Undertaker work. The last two had assuaged his hunger only briefly. Now his stomach demanded more and all he had were these loathsome candy drops to pacify it. Honestly. If he had his choice, he’d have gone for some fish and chips by now. Better still, he’d attend the weekly dinner he promised to his coworker to make sure she ate. Lately they had been all that were keeping him going while living in the rough conditions of the circus. As long as they were stationed somewhere instead of in transit, he took a “constitutional” and after he walked out of sight, he teleported back to Purgatory and got an honest meal into himself. 

Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to the scene playing out in Grelle’s mind. It was better than thinking of the taste of the chocolates. Looking in, he hadn’t missed much. 

“The fairy, too?!” Grelle cried out.

There was the noise of a throat clearing from across the room. “Ahem…my deepest apology to you all, but the more I look at Grelle-san…” the demon broke off, his eyes glowing red. “I cannot suppress my growing appetite…” Wiliam saw the demon’s teeth grow sharper, more like an animal’s than any human’s. He had to repress his automatic response to not draw his actual Deathscythe. This is only a dream, William. Bottle man! 

The demon went on, “Ahhh…I want to devour her…” The sound of his voice altering as it was made the hairs on the back of William’s neck stand on end. He knew what kind of ‘devouring’ that would actually lead to and he never wanted Grelle to face it. His coworker wanted romance, not a painful end of all existence…or so he hoped.

The dream went on. 

Grelle turned towards Sebastian, hugging herself and wiggling in place with excitement. “Ohh, even Sebas-chan! Wait, what’s wrong with everyone all of a sudden? Why would you go so far to have my body?”

Finny, Bard and Lau said in unison, “That is…” but then William, Druitt, and Ash spoke up, “That is…” they echoed. Their words were chased by Soma, Agni, and the Valentine Fairy repeating, “That is…” then Sebastian alone whispered in a low, husky voice, “That is…”

Then they all spoke in unison announcing, “Because we fell in love with you!!” Grelle was absolutely beside herself now. Throwing her head back she cried out, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! One more time!!” and pointed cheerfully at her head, nearly dancing in place. 

Bard and Finny lifted a card between them and read off “L”. 

Beside Bard, Lau lifted one that held the letter “O” on it and he held the note overlong as he spoke, letting it roll forth with an erotic sound.

Druitt had one beside him that he lifted as he twirled a rose in his hand and spoke the letter “V”.

William quietly thought that he should have had the letter “O” since that seemed to make up at least a third of the man’s vocabulary. Then he gritted his teeth to see a version of himself sharing a card with Ash with an “E” on it, reading it off like a primary school student.

Agni stood alone and held up “Y”, saying it low with a hint of blush rising to his olive cheeks.

Soma roped the Valentine Fairy into aiding him. Together they said, “O” as they boosted their card into the air.

Sebastian then held up his with the “U” on it and made it clear which “you” he meant as he said it.

Then they all said at the same time, “Love you!” to Grelle.

“Uuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!” Grelle cried out. I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!! My ear! My ear is going to get pregnant!!” 

It was the stupidest thing William had ever heard! In the back of Grelle’s mind William blanched from more than the taste of the chocolates. “Honestly! How much longer must this go on!” he shouted. 

“Shh, shh, this is a delicate moment, you mustn’t speak!” Undertaker whispered at him, making motions to ‘quiet down’ with one hand. The man’s face became a mask of concentration. William turned his sharp gaze from his mentor to his coworker’s dream once again.

Grelle writhed and said, “I really feel like I can give birth right now. Eh…EH?!! My stomach! My stomach is…!” What happened next looked like a tire being inflated under Grelle’s uniform. Then Grelle screamed out, “Wa…AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Suddenly, a wrapped child in a swaddling cloth simply appeared in Grelle’s arms. The sound of a baby’s cry could be heard. Grelle tickled the baby’s cheek and said in the sweetest of tones, “You’re finally born. My baby…so cute! But…who is the father?” she asked, a hint of dismay creeping into her mothering tones.

“Waah, waah,” the baby cried…but it was in William’s voice with his flat, adult tones as if he were mocking someone. 

In the back of Grelle’s mind, William lurched backwards, a hand out as if to protect himself from the horror he just witnessed. Undertaker just burst out laughing, and fell to the ground leaving William to hear Grelle saying, “Ah Will! So it’s you, another Shinigami, who is the father!”

The dream images faded as Undertaker lost all control, lying on his stomach and slapping his hand against the stone of the floor as he kicked his legs up and down in utter mirth. William, angered and with his face flush from the humiliating scene he was forced to witness stood glaring from Undertaker to the reclining Grelle. 

“Are we done here?!” William shouted the question, trying to regain his composure and settle his rattled nerves. 

“Oh, oh yes, and William,” Undertaker waved at him with one hand, weakly from the floor.

“What is it?” William grumbled at him. 

“Consider the entire day paid for. I might even give you a couple of questions for free the next time we meet.” That smoothed his feathers somewhat. Usually entertaining his old mentor was near impossible for him. That’s why he took to roping in his subordinates to do the task these days when he could, although he felt a touch reprehensible for it.

Dragging Grelle off the slab he said, “So we can safely leave now?”

“Oh yes, she experienced a form of resolution to her unresolved wishes. Her fever has broken and she should recover speedily now. What will YOU do with her though, e-e-eh?” Undertaker asked, a line of drool escaping the edge of his mouth as he grinned up at William. It seemed that he was in no hurry to get off the floor.

“I don’t want her to wake up here. I’ll take her back to Dispatch with me. Then she can face the proper punishment for her crimes,” with that he adjusted his glasses with one hand while hefting the groggy Grelle in the other. He’d best hurry now. She seemed to be waking up. 

The shop’s bell rang one last time as they left. William desperately hoped that he wouldn’t need to return anytime soon. Now he had to get Grelle back to Purgatory and then still return to the circus himself. He’d be lucky if he got any sleep in at all at this rate!

Walking along, he heard Grelle mumble in her half-conscious state and set her down, seated on the ground with the wall of a building at her back. 

“What are you talking about, Grelle Sutcliff,” he said coldly staring down at her.

“Eh?” she managed, opening her eyes at last. William fought to contain the relief he experienced seeing her awaken properly.

Instead he cleared his throat and went on as if nothing had happened. “To go unconscious from just one blow…” he adjusted his glasses and straightened deciding what to say. “You will be punished for breaking regulations. Do you not recall?” Did she have memory of the event? If not, they wouldn’t be able to really punish her. 

His coworker gasped and scrambled to her feet. “It can’t be! I worked so hard, and it was all just a dream!? No...” she said the last with such a heartbroken sound, William almost wanted to forgive her, but that wasn’t his call to make. Doing so might only endanger her or him or both. He had to toe the line as well.

“Really,” he said instead. “You would perform a taboo just for that chocolate? It was soggy and all too sweet.” He began walking, watching her rise to her feet and insuring to his satisfaction that her coordination was equally recovered.

She caught up to him and he slowed his pace for her, silently treating her as the lady she believed herself to be. It was a small kindness. He could allow her that much. Continuing in a more conversational manner, he added, “Fish and chips taste eight times better. Now don’t say they’re gross.”

Grelle wasn’t listening. She rarely did, he thought. Instead he caught her wistfully saying, “Valentine’s is a maiden’s dream” then something seemed to strike her. She looked up into his eyes and said, “Will…? Did you really eat my chocolates?”

He sighed and looked away from her. “I only wanted to know the result of your failure.” It was a thin pretext and they both knew it.

“Will!!” she cried and hugged him around the middle. It was disconcerting and threw off his balance.

“G-get off of me. You will be assigned a written apology when we get back,” he told her, trying to be stern.

She blew it off, happy as a clam. “Oka-y! Will! WILL!” she kept crying, hugging him and rocking them both back and forth so that he couldn’t quite work his way free of her.

“A-all right, that’s enough…!!” he nearly shouted. Then he felt her hands gliding up his back and did not care for the liberties she started taking. “Just where do you think you’re touching?!” The only answer was the rustling of fabric as one hand went up his back and the other started gliding down it. 

Panicking, he teleported them both to his pylon and then out of her arms and into HER usual spot instead. Panting he glared at her. “Sutcliff, do NOT do that again! Now report to your office. You have paperwork to do!”

“Yes, Will!” she cried out happily, daring to blow him a kiss as she practically skipped toward the main door. Ugh. It was going to be a long night. He’d have to sit and make sure she wrote the letter out properly as well as take time to write up his own report. On the positive side, he’d be able to get some kind of food at the cafeteria soon since breakfast would be available shortly. Sleep would be precious and scarce and he had a full performance to do the coming evening. Honestly Grelle, can’t you just do your JOB?! Sighing, he allowed himself a moment of relief. At least she wasn’t dead. He hadn’t killed her. Perhaps he had to go perform like a trained monkey at that wretched circus, but there were only a few days left to that. It couldn’t get much worse before he got a break at least. With that, he followed Grelle up the stairs. It was almost a typical day at the office.

Liner Notes:

*Once again, thanks to Onakugirl for the original translation and for notes on the nuances of the play.

**“Light Eater” is a term for someone who has a small sexual appetite.

***Jyo Agya-(Hindi) for “As you wish”. (Agni would make an interesting Dread Pirate Roberts in a Princess Bride crossover, wouldn’t he?)

****When British people in the Victorian Era talked about curry, it was usually made from a premade powder that became popular when a taste for the spices from the East Indies came home with some of the soldiers at that time. Although it paled in comparison to the curries made in India itself, the mix made a lot of food more palatable, particularly leftovers for the Victorians. Today, Indian food is huge in England, so much so that “vindaloo” is sometimes a chant at ball games! (See “Star of Inda: The Adventures of Spicy Curry” by Jo Monroe for more on the topic.)


End file.
